


Sixteenth Sunset

by Miss_Shiva_Adler, nhixxie



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, And the real MVP of this fic: The International Space Station's Cupola, Gays.. IN SPACE, Houston we've had a problem and it's these idiot friends not realizing they, How do you cuddle in microgravity you ask? This fic has the answers, M/M, NASA knows they're pining, Original Character(s), The most unrealistic part of this fic is that I didn't write them going to the bathroom, are inexplicably meant to be together, artwork included, maia Roberts - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26095492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Shiva_Adler/pseuds/Miss_Shiva_Adler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhixxie/pseuds/nhixxie
Summary: NASA astronauts Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood spend one year living and working together in the International Space Station. They fall in love one astounding view of Earth at a time.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 99
Kudos: 253
Collections: Hunter's Moon Fic Recs, Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020 hosted by the [Malec Discord Server](https://discord.gg/5nBgEp8)
> 
> Hello and welcome to the product of a three-month writing spree fuelled by the entire discography of Sleeping at Last. I'm a giant space nerd and have been holding onto this plot for a very long time. I'm glad that it has found its home in Malec.
> 
> Firstly, thank you for the lovely people at the Malec Discord Server for arranging this writing challenge. All your hard work is very much appreciated. Secondly, a thank you the size of the ISS to my amazing beta, Lucy ([theprophetlemonade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprophetlemonade/pseuds/theprophetlemonade)), who not only powered through almost 30k words of my writing but also imparted her writing expertise to me. This is my first time extensively working with a beta, and I couldn't imagine it with anybody else! Lastly, thank you so very much to Shiva ([Miss_Shiva_Adler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Shiva_Adler/pseuds/Miss_Shiva_Adler)) for the wonderful art he created for this story! Still very much awestruck by your talent! Also, please do find Shiva's brilliant artwork in the last chapter of this fic and give it some lovely comments!
> 
> This fic is very grounded on reality of space exploration as it exists in real life, so there are mentions of technical terminologies. I explain these things as I go, but if you're not much of a space nerd, [**I've created a page with simple introductions into the space-related things that will be found in this fic. A fic trailer could also be found there**](https://16thsunset.carrd.co/). Feel free to peruse before starting. 
> 
> I'm at @Nhixxie on twitter and follow #nhixxiefic for any live-tweeting.
> 
> Enjoy!

  
  


Alexander Lightwood, the two-hundred and twenty first person to set foot on the International Space Station, a graduate of aerospace engineering from Columbia University, ex-fighter jet pilot with the Air Force, masters degree in nuclear engineering, and an astronaut with four years of training under his belt, winces as pop rocks crackle between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

“Gross,” he complains, tongue painted red, “I hated every second of that.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Magnus teases, “Only people with personalities like pop rocks.”

Alec makes a disgusted face. “Only ten year olds like pop rocks.”

He pushes off the wall and floats across the space between them, zero gravity suspending him in the air like he’s held by invisible puppet strings. He promptly gives Magnus back his chosen candy from Earth.

“Can’t believe you asked for that to get sent up to space.”

Magnus folds his little pouch of rock candy and clips it closed. He tucks it away in a pocket on the wall where all his treasured snacks are kept, one of the few reminders of home he has to help him retain his sanity as they embark on their full year of living and working on the International Space Station.

Magnus looks at him curiously. “What, pray tell, did you ask for?”

Alec looks smug as he slips a hand into the many pockets of his blue NASA-issued jumpsuit, and whips out a candy bar.

“ _Milky Way?_ ” Magnus says, aghast, “In _space_?”

Alec rips the top open and takes a proud bite.

Magnus laughs, shaking his head as he plucks the candy from Alec’s hand and takes a bite off the top because he knows he can.

Magnus knows Alec won’t ever get mad at him for it. That’s the benefit of being friends—best friends—with Alexander Lightwood. You are privy to his well-guarded selflessness, one that he only shows to a select few. Alec takes another bite and offers Magnus more, a gesture that means the world when you’re suspended above and orbiting Earth with a limited supply of your favorite things.

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood,” Magnus says fondly, “You are insufferably corny.”

Alec rolls his eyes and hooks his ankle onto Magnus’ as he propels himself forward with his hands, making his way out of the galley and into the Cupola.

It’s only their third week in space.

Alec furrows his brow as he concentrates on the task before him. A row of capped test tubes stuck on a piece of tape bobs slightly in zero gravity and it moves about like fingers fluttering in the air, a flirty hello.

He rips a swab and disinfects the spot on his arm where he knows a good vein sits. He probably doesn’t even need a tourniquet to find one, but still puts it on, just in case.

Alec plucks the butterfly needle stuck on his work bench, unsheathing it, and tosses the plastic cover into the sharps container. It’s weird to see medical supplies sitting side by side with the pliers and screwdrivers of his workbench, but Alec isn’t the best when it comes to needle sticks, and he’s gotten superstitious. _Space brain_ , CAPCOM at Ground Control jokingly says. Either way, he has one rule: he only does his blood draws at his favorite workbench or not at all.

Alec has the needle held at a perfect, thirty-degree angle, the pointed bevel just about to touch his skin when he hears Magnus from afar.

“Alexander.”

The wrinkle in Alec’s brow grows deeper and he chooses to ignore the excited whisper. He exhales, repositions his needle, and approaches again—

“Alexander!”

Alec breathes hot air out of his nose and tosses his needle into the bin, releases his tourniquet, and floats begrudgingly from his workbench at the Destiny Module and right into the gateway that leads to Tranquility. He would be stomping his feet on the floor if gravity persisted up in space too.

He sees Magnus’ head peek out from a hole on the floor. Magnus is brimming with excitement as he motions for Alec to come over, completely ignoring Alec’s disgruntled expression.

“We talked about this,” Alec presses, and Magnus motions again with more urgency.

“Come here, quickly,” he urges.

Alec makes his way slower than what Magnus demands from him. He complains, “I was doing my blood draws.”

Magnus sighs, rolling his eyes. “Alexander—”

“I hate needles, you know this.”

Magnus exasperatedly presses his fingers to his forehead, black nail polish from three days ago already chipping. Alec remembers Magnus sweeping the varnish onto his nails the night before their launch into space, adamant on being his most authentic self no matter where he is in the universe.

“Alexander, I’m the chief medical officer on board,” Magnus says, “I will poke you with whatever you want, however many times you want, just _come here_.”

Alec rolls his eyes but concedes either way, boosting himself forward with both hands pushing off the horizontal railing beneath him. The moment he’s within reach, Magnus grabs both of his wrists and pulls him quickly into the seven-windowed observatory of the Cupola.

Within a few beats, Magnus and Alec go from being surrounded by boring payloads and equipment lit by fluorescent lights to being engulfed by the quiet dimness of the universe. Glass panes form its transparent dome, and through them, they lay eyes on an Earth that turns silently yet roaringly before them - their giant blue marble, blanketed by sunless gloom. Lights from big cities mark where land masses start and oceans end, scintillating like the nerves of a human body.

Alec breathes out as he curls against the curved metal edge of one of the glass panes, looking out like one would through the window of an airplane after take off. The first thing he and Magnus did upon their arrival two days ago was to float into the Cupola and look down at the Earth. Whatever corner of the world it chooses to show them, it never failed to amaze Alec every single time.

“I was wrong,” Alec whispers breathlessly, “Whatever I was saying, I was wrong, you’re right.”

Magnus perches his chin on Alec’s shoulder as he crowds Alec from behind, smiling slightly. “This is why you should always listen to me.”

“Mm,” Alec mumbles, still unfathomably lost in the sight before him.

“Give it a moment,” Magnus says, “I want to show you something.”

They wait, and the world turns, gray sunless clouds pulled across bright patches of land and encompassing oceans like cotton candy. The translucent blanket of the atmosphere softly glows neon green as auroras dance across the sky. And then, Magnus readies his camera and points at a bright spot before them.

“New York.” He smiles, and Alec feels his heart lurch in longing.

He thinks of Izzy and his mom. He remembers jogging through Central Park with Izzy matching his pace beside him. He remembers taking short walks with his mom on weekends, their favorite breakfast place a small bodega tucked behind the hospital. He remembers his little apartment where Izzy sometimes crashes when she doesn’t want to take the long subway ride back to her place. It’s home.

It all seems so small when faced with the vastness of the entire universe, but it weighs on Alec’s heart just as heavily. He hears the unmistakable click of Magnus’ camera; one, two, three times, his shutter closes. When Alec finally tears his eyes away from the view, he sees Magnus looking at him, eyes soft.

Polished fingers squeeze gently at Alec’s neck, almost to his cheek. _I’m here_.

Alec finds it hard to keep himself from not leaning into the touch.

Seven-year old Alec bawls, fat tears forming at the corners of his eyes and streaking down his chubby cheeks.

His mom hovers over him, both palms planted on her knees, watching with soft amusement as he shriek-cries in fear. Alec hasn’t cried this hard since he stubbed his toe on the corner of his toy chest, which was yesterday.

Alec bawls again.

“Are you done, my love?” Maryse asks, trying not to laugh.

Alec can’t believe this. He just walked into a spiderweb stretched along a low hanging branch of a tree, its stretchy bits clinging to his face, and its spider probably skittering across the curls of his hair. How can his mom not help him? Does she not care for him anymore?

The thought pulls the corners of his lips downwards, mouth trembling. He’s decided he’s going to cry again.

Maryse finally places her hands on his shoulders soothingly.

“Oh, my lovely boy.” She smiles kindly. “You’re alright! It’s just a bit of fuzz.”

“B-but the spider,” Alec hiccups amidst the tears, “It bites and it has poison and I’m gonna _die_ —”

Maryse melts, a soft sound escaping her lips as she holds Alec against her. “My love, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Alec sniffs, small fingers wiping the trail of snot from his nose. “How do you know?” he mumbles tearfully.

Maryse peels herself gently from Alec, lowering herself to her knees as she speaks to him. She starts picking webbing from his cheeks.

“Well,” she says gently, “When I walk into spiderweb, I try to think to myself: am I hurt?”

Alec sniffs again and looks down on himself. He frowns at his hands and his feet. “I’m not hurt,” he decides.

Maryse smiles. “Okay. Do I see a spider?”

Alec looks around, eyes squinted tightly. He turns back to his mom. “I don’t see a spider.”

“Okay,” Maryse says, now fixing Alec’s dishevelled hair, “So then, should we be frightened right now?”

Alec blinks at his small realization. He draws himself up, proudly saying, “No.”

He sniffs again.

Maryse chuckles softly. “It’s okay to be scared, Alec. You can shout and jump and run.”

She plucks the last bit of fuzz from his hair.

“But after that, it’s good to think: what do I do now?” she says, “Do I keep being afraid—”

Alec watches as sunlight beams over his mom’s face, illuminating it warmly.

“—or do I do something about it?”

Alec speaks in a small yet determined voice.

“I’ll do something about it.”

Maryse grins, drawing him up into her arms.

“That’s my boy.”

The Baikonur launch site looms before them as their truck rolls across the frigid steppes of Kazakhstan. Alec watches in muted awe as Soyuz stands tall and proud in the center, plumes of smoke curling from its boosters, its nose pointed to a sky that it will soon pierce like a needle threading through fabric.

Magnus whistles the tune of _Don’t Worry, Be Happy_ beside him.

They pass through a patch of rocky ground and it shifts them both in their seats. The funny clunking noise they make against each other makes Alec snort, and it dissipates the tension that hangs thickly in the air. Despite the layer of space suit between them, Magnus pressed next to Alec is something that is always welcomed by every nerve of his body.

“Scared?” Magnus asks knowingly, a small smile on his lips.

Alec blinks at him, eyes caught on the curl of Magnus’ mouth as it grows.

“A little,” he murmurs.

Magnus nudges his gloved fingers against Alec’s hand, and Alec could feel the soft touch of Magnus’ fingertips on his wrist as if they were both stripped of their space suits.

“Good,” Magnus says warmly.

Alec allows himself a smile, and only lets it fully bloom when he turns away. It seems right, he thinks, for Magnus to be sitting right next to him in a moment that will define his life forever.

Magnus belongs there in more ways than one.

Dimitri Morozov, their on-the-ground flight team leader, curses in Russian as they hit yet another rocky spot, and then hollers in a heavy accent from the front of their vehicle.

“You boys, get ready.”

Alec and Magnus step out of the truck and are greeted by three things: the stark coldness of the wind that whips across the large stretch of land where Baikonur sits, the cheer of family, friends, and spectators behind the metal barricade that lines the walkway towards the launch pad,

And their spaceship, Soyuz.

Lit up by towering, xenon lights. Propped up bilaterally by four massive cranes. A giant omnipotent thing, patiently waiting for two, small, pinprick-humans. And _they’re_ supposed to fly it.

One thing Alec has come to realize after almost a year of living and training in Star City for his mission into space is that the Russians are superstitious. The recovery crews throw back a shot of vodka half-way through their trip to the capsule landing spot to pacify the spirits that reside on the steppes. Each crew member of each mission departing from Baikonur needs to plant a sapling to commemorate their trip or they don’t go at all. And akin to a wedding, tradition forbids Alec and Magnus from seeing Soyuz before their launch.

Today, they meet face to face. And even with his experience in flight testing fighter jets, education in aerospace engineering, and his years and years of training for this very moment, Alec feels afraid.

_When I walk into a spider web_ , Alec thinks as they make the walk towards their launch pad, _I try to think to myself:_

_Am I hurt?_ Alec turns back momentarily to the crowd and finds his family from afar, a small but decipherable dot amongst the cameras, crew members, and dignitaries that press themselves against the barricade. Izzy waves at him, happy, proud, teary-eyed. Alec waves back, heart heavy and soaring at the same time. _No._

 _Do I see a spider?_ Alec lets Magnus onto the staircase first, a hand to the small of his back, a habit. He doesn’t even realize he does it. They board the elevator that takes them to the very tip of their rocket, and the sheer height of being dangled in a box one hundred and fifty feet above ground with a thrumming beast beside them makes Alec’s insides knot together. _No._

 _Should I be frightened right now?_ They enter the orbital module and crawl on their hands and knees, twisting themselves until they’re nestled snugly into their seats. The control panel before them comes alive, numbers and words flashing across their multiple screens as Ground Control performs their final checks. _No._

 _So, what do I do now?_ Magnus talks to Ground Control, eyes scanning the monitors as he presses a combination of buttons on his side of the panel. Alec pulls up their protocols on the tablet strapped onto his thigh and together they move like fine-tuned clockwork. 

“One minute until launch,” Ground Control says, crackling with static.

When all the checks are finished and as they both wait, Alec allows himself a look at Magnus. He finds his best friend focused on hanging a stuffed pink bunny on their control panel. When he finally manages to hook it over the monitor, he gives it a happy little poke and the thing spins on its own string.

Alec can’t help but smile. This is what Magnus is for him. He brings forth something from deep within Alec’s chest, something soft and gentle, despite Alec’s reservations and abrasiveness. Magnus reaches out across the space between them, smiling slightly. Alec clasps Magnus’ hand in his: _here we go._

It’s one thing to be taught how it’s going to feel when you get shot into space, and another thing to feel the roaring power that ignites beneath them. The rocket comes alive with a clang like five colossal church bells shuddering altogether, three hundred tonnes of propellant exploding a fiery red tail, the entire ship shaking and shivering with enough force to make the very blood in Alec’s veins tremble.

The four arms that tether the rocket to Earth finally fall away.

_Do I keep being afraid?_

Something unimaginably strong presses its foot onto Alec’s back, pushing him upwards. Magnus grins beside him, elated by the rocket's wondrous force.

_Or do I something about it?_

A staticky voice fills the cabin:

_“We have lift off.”_

In ten minutes, the spinning bunny floats in zero gravity.

At Alec’s side, Magnus laughs, buoyant.

There are neither mornings nor nights on the International Space Station—not when the horizon is the curved blue line of the Earth’s surface, and not when the ISS orbits the Earth at 17,200 miles per hour—and thus, Magnus and Alec are gifted with sixteen sunrises and sixteen sunsets every day.

There is only sleep and after sleep, dictated by the clock on the wall, the darkness of the Space Station when Alec flips the switch that turns off the lights in all the modules, and the tiredness that beckons their bodies towards their beds after a full day’s work. There are spots in the station that are suitable for sleeping, narrow padded booths with sleeping bags tethered to the wall by a simple system of bungee cords and hooks. Without the drag of gravity against their muscles and joints, there’s no discomfort. They slip in, zip up, and relax until sleep collects them.

Sleep is just another thing they do in space. A reprieve from the scientific experiments, space station maintenance, and media events that Magnus and Alec do as part of their daily lives as two astronauts spending a year off Earth. Magnus likes the sleeping pod in Node Two because it’s far from where the toilet is, and Alec likes the one in the Service Module because he’s already made a home of it, pictures of Izzy and Maryse tacked to the walls.

Two months into their year, Alec is in his pajamas—courtesy of the Russians, who makes the most comfortable space sleepwear—all tucked in and ready to settle down for the night when the soft door of his sleeping pod flips open. Magnus grumpily tosses his sleeping bag into the small booth, straps himself in, and turns himself towards Alec, looking at him with tired, puffy eyes.

“I can’t sleep,” he mumbles. It’s been four days of insomnia for Magnus, and if insomnia on Earth is exhausting, then insomnia in space is debilitating.

Alec frowns, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them again, readjusting to the dark. He pulls his arms against his chest, relishing his own body heat. He looks at Magnus with muted concern.

“You can’t space walk like this,” he says, voice still scratchy with aborted sleep.

Tomorrow, Magnus is set to suit up and release Chasqui III—a nanosatellite docked onto the station—out into space, the last step on their end of a project they’re doing in conjunction with Peru’s National University of Engineering. A temporary malfunction in the Canadarm calls for a manual approach.

Magnus huffs softly, exhausted. He tries to close his eyes, shielding himself from the only source of light in Alec’s booth—his ipad, velcroed to the wall. Alec notices, unzips his sleeping bag, and locks the tablet shut. Magnus mumbles a quiet, “thank you”.

“Tell me a story,” Magnus says under his breath.

“What story?” Alec asks.

Magnus shrugs, eyes still closed. “What’s the best aircraft you’ve ever flown?”

Alec snorts. “You hate it when I talk about my machines.”

“Exactly.” Magnus hums pointedly, “Maybe you’ll bore me to sleep.”

Magnus giggles and Alec rolls his eyes, fond. He sighs his concession as he stretches for a spare bungee cord in the corner of his booth. He reaches out for Magnus, floating him even closer than he already is, and ties the cord around them both, anchoring them together. Magnus lets a quiet breath stumble from his lips as he presses his forehead into the crook of Alec’s neck, shoulders softening as Alec’s arms wind around him. Alec tangles his fingers in the fabric of Magnus’ shirt, zero gravity threatening to lift his touch away.

The pad of Alec’s thumb rubs against Magnus’ shoulder, purely muscle memory. 

He tries to figure out where to start. “Well, all aircrafts are special in their own way.”

Magnus hums again. _Go on_.

The International Space Station is quiet in the night-time they create for themselves. The only sounds are the low, constant hum of machinery around them, and Alec’s steady murmur. Soon, it’s joined by Magnus’ soft breathing.

The Earth turns silently outside, their only witness.

If you were to go back in time three years ago and tell Alec Lightwood that Magnus Bane would become his closest, most cherished friend, he wouldn’t have believed a single word of it.

Alec sits on a bench, feet splashing against the thin sheet of water beneath it, the gigantic swimming pool of the Neutral Buoyancy Lab glistening before him in all its bluish wonder. The water distorts the colossal mock-up of the International Space Station modules underneath its surface. To his left, his mock space suit stands beside him. 

In half an hour, he will be doing his first space walk simulation underwater.

Alec smiles softly. 

In the vague pictures of Alec’s childhood dreams, he is in his thick, white space suit, tethered to his space station, floating as he meets a slowly turning Earth face to face. _Hi! I’m Alec_ , he says in that dream, _hello, Earth!_ And the Earth would smile up at him, waving as he passes by.

Now, in the clear picture of Alec’s reality, he faces three years of rigorous training to be the astronaut that he always wanted to be as a child. He remembers sitting on the floor, watching with utter enchantment as his mother played old recordings of the Apollo moon landing on their television screen. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, he watched as the encompassing image of the moon’s cratered surface peered into the spacecraft window, a gray-scaled apparition. It was _miraculous_. By the time Armstrong and Aldrin stamped the first human footprints on moon dust, Alec was crying, overwhelmed.

 _I don’t want them to be stuck there_ , he wept, _I want them to come back._

Maryse would show Alec pictures of the recovered capsule bobbing in the waters of the Pacific Ocean, its astronauts exhausted but safe. And they were happy; met-the-moon-and-lived-to-tell-the-tale happy.

Alec wanted to be _that happy_.

Ever since, Alec has been dreaming of space. He dreams of the giant domes of rocket boosters and thinks of stars collapsing light years away. Today, he is in the only facility in the United States that could train him how to exist in space.

Out of fifteen thousand applicants of would-be astronauts, he is one of the seven that makes it in.

It makes Alec swell with pride, a feeling he tries to tamp down.

Izzy says it’s okay to be proud of what he’s accomplished. Alec is only twenty seven and he’s already geared up to be the youngest candidate ever accepted into the program. The media coverage that surrounded the announcement of this year’s astronaut class has touted him as some kind of wunderkind. Alec absolutely despises it. It discounts the endless hours of extra classes and missed summers he willingly endured just to finish high school early. It disregards the awkward, distorted relationships—friendships or otherwise—he had in university as he maneuvered through coming of age and aerospace engineering at the same time. It foregoes the muted terror of piloting an aircraft at an age where tough spines and nerves of steel are hard to come by.

Everything he achieved he toiled relentlessly for, ever since he first laid eyes on an old recording of Saturn V roaring into life. Nothing about his ascension to this moment has been easy.

From the other side of the swimming pool, Alec hears the unmistakable voice of a person he truly cannot stand. Across from him, Magnus Bane is being de-suited after his own six-hour training session underneath the waters of the Neutral Buoyancy Lab. He’s laughing as he squirms out of the top half of his suit, and his team of divers laugh back, utterly enamoured. It’s like watching a group of friends have fun from across the room.

Magnus Bane finally slips out, climbing off the metal frame that holds the 280-pound suit aloft and a cheer blossoms from all around him. He grins, giving them a little curtsy, all grace and poise.

Alec rolls his eyes.

_Asshole._

“You know you might just go to actual outer space with that guy, right?”

Izzy sounds kind of exhausted from the other end of the line, as she usually is after listening to another one of Alec’s long-winded, extremely tedious rants about how Magnus Bane is the worst. A week ago, it was ‘Magnus Bane is all fancy talk and no substance’. Three days ago, ‘Magnus Bane flirts his way around the staff and the entirety of this year’s astronaut class so he can get brownie points’. Today, ‘Magnus Bane is being a competitive little shit by finding Alec’s eyes every chance he gets and holding it with a superiorly cheeky gaze, as if to say, _beat that_ ’.

“So?” Alec says, tossing back a gulp of his beer as he soaks in the mild warmth of Texan spring-summer.

“You might want to, I don’t know, at least try to get along with him?” Izzy says. She can’t believe she actually has to explain to her future astronaut of a brother the basics of team building.

Alec snorts. “I can still go to outer space with that guy and not like even a shred of his entire being.”

He could hear the roll of Izzy’s eyes all the way from New York.

“Then I don’t know why you keep calling me about this when you won’t take my advice on how to fix it.”

“I need someone to vent to,” Alec says, shrugging despite knowing it can’t be seen.

Izzy’s cab driver lays onto his horn, and it filters loudly across the line. Unfazed, she retorts sourly, “I should charge you my lawyer rate for wasting my damn time.”

Alec rolls his eyes fondly. “Shut up.”

He hears rustling through his phone speakers. Izzy sounds far away when she speaks. “I gotta go, I just got to my building.”

She is about to end the call, but gives Alec a parting thought.

“For an outrageously intelligent guy, you’re a fucking idiot.”

Alec smirks.

“Love you too.”

Alec plunks himself tiredly onto his favorite cafeteria table, his lunch curling soft steam where it sits on his tray.

He is famished beyond relief. Three months out and astronaut training is already the hardest thing he’s ever had to do in his entire life.

Six hours in the Neutral Buoyancy Lab and another late evening to look forward to in Robotics has left Alec grasping at his last remaining threads. It’s been a rough week of basic training, and it’s been siphoning off from his finite tank of patience and energy. Alec can barely afford to give the staff the usual, respectful smile he always reserves for them. He quirks the corner of his lip, hopes his divers understand the mental and physical toll the first few months of spacewalk training could do to an astronaut candidate, and calls it a day.

“Take a longer break,” Maia says as she pulls herself up from the edge of the pool, wringing chlorine from her hair. “Robotics can start a little later.”

Alec finds himself expending more energy for a bigger, grateful smile for her. He likes Maia. She’s nice, funny, and has a sharp tongue on her. Alec’s favorite combination of traits in a person.

He’s about to take a humongous bite out of his lasagna when somebody takes the seat right across from him. He physically suppresses an annoyed groan.

“Good morning, Alexander.”

Magnus Bane smiles that half-buoyant, half-cheeky smile of his, and it suffuses Alec with irritation that he almost can’t contain. He sounds too bright for someone who’s about to take his turn submerged underwater in a pressurized suit that makes you feel like your lungs are being squeezed out of your body. He always looks like he knows your secret and he’s holding onto it for ‘safekeeping’.

Alec realizes he hasn’t replied yet. He almost doesn’t want to.

“Hi,” he says, tone a tad too curt, maybe, “It’s Alec, actually.”

Magnus’ brows raise, an amused smile filling his face. _Oh_. “I apologize.”

Alec shovels a spoonful of food into his mouth, an excuse not to say anything else.

Magnus notices this and lightly plays with his greens, fork stabbing into a cherry tomato. He asks after Alec has visibly swallowed, “How was NBL?”

Alec doesn’t know why, but every word that comes out of Magnus’ mouth pulls handfuls from Alec’s already dwindling resolve. It doesn’t make sense, Alec admits, that he feels so much irrational displeasure towards everything that Magnus Bane says and does. But he can’t help the feeling that’s always on a low, steady boil within him, and is blasted into volatile turbulence every time Magnus comes close. 

“It was fine,” Alec answers, annoyed exhaustion prying its way into his cracks and seams.

“I hope you don’t mind if I borrow Maia for my run at the lab,” Magnus says, grinning slightly, “One of my divers is out of commission.”

Alec burns on the inside. The rational part of him knows this is a temporary, common sense fix that causes little harm, but the part of him that appreciates nothing of Magnus Bane flares like a reopened wound—of course he would swipe one of Alec’s most trusted teammates for himself.

“Whatever you want,” Alec says, taking another big spoonful and chewing angrily.

“Thank you, Alec,” Magnus starts, “I feel like we got off on—”

Before Alec can stop himself, the words come out of his mouth. “Look, I’m really tired. And I’m sure you are too. You don’t have to make a friend out of me, and I’ll do the same.”

He expects Magnus to get up in a huff and leave, but all Alec sees is quiet resignation. Immediately, he feels guilty.

“Of course,” Magnus says gently, “I apologize for disturbing you, Alec.” He smiles, and it’s the most genuine smile Alec’s seen on anybody, ever. “I wish you the best.”

Alec watches as Magnus gathers his lunch and walks away, the color of his NASA jumpsuit a beacon of blue as his figure grows smaller and smaller.

Alec breathes out.

 _Shit_.

The International Space Station is abuzz.

Today, Alec and Magnus are going to chat with the students of Ben Murch Elementary school, patched through as a video call while the students receive them as a live, interactive video feed. They’ve talked to many people in the past four months of their stay in orbit, but nothing excites them more than talking to children. The usual, almost bone-dry conversations they have with any of their adult audiences couldn’t measure up to the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed excitement of ten-year olds as they watch Alec and Magnus do backflips and chomp on floating food in zero gravity.

Alec looks at his reflection on the mirror velcroed onto the wall of his make-shift wash station, inspecting the condition of his skin. He winces. He looks pasty, like he’s one anemic episode away from needing a blood transfusion. And he’s supposed to be in front of a camera today.

One would think that being 200 miles above the Earth, without the canopy of its atmosphere, would place you closer to the sun’s rays and give your skin a bit more warmth. But as expected, the ISS is built safely and smartly, and the walls of their temporary home protect them both from solar radiation well enough. If anything, they get less sun in orbit than back home.

Magnus peeks into the gateway that connects Destiny and Columbus together, headset affixed over his ears. He just came off a call with Ground Control in Houston.

“You ready?” he asks.

Alec looks back at Magnus, worry furrowing the line of his brow. “I look like a ghost,” he says flatly, “I’m going to scare the kids.”

Magnus laughs, his eyes twin crescent moons as he pushes off with his hands and propels himself in Alec’s direction. Alec catches him by the arm and helps him reorient himself right side up, and Magnus hooks an ankle against Alec’s to anchor himself in place.

Magnus makes a show of looking at Alec’s face, eyes following the strong line of his brow, passing along the explosion of greens and browns that fills his irises, and tracing the downward slope of a nose that is punctuated by a small notch.

“You’re right, you look horrible,” Magnus says mirthfully, and Alec rolls his eyes, smiling.

“Can you help me?”

Magnus draws himself closer by pulling at their pressed ankles. Their knees bump against each other, and Magnus’ hand comes up to rest on the thin, vertical railing next to Alec’s head.

“Alexander,” he says, softly, knowingly, “I’ve known you for four years. And not one time have you been anything but beautiful.”

Of the time they’ve known each other, not once has Alec learned not to blush a ruddy shade of red whenever his best friend gives him these colorful words like a bouquet of flowers. Magnus is a great astronaut, a scientist by trade and has worked in the biological sciences his entire life, and he’s a poet with his words. Magnus has always sung praises over Alec’s eyes, casually comparing their colors to those of an emissions nebula, and every time, Alec doesn’t know what to say. Even a thank you seems narcissistic, he thinks.

“Thank you,” Alec still ends up murmuring because it’s Magnus, and for him, Alec would make all exceptions. 

It makes Magnus beam, a ray of sunlight piercing through the atmosphere. Alec couldn’t be left more speechless the sight.

“There you go,” Magnus says.

Alec gulps the dryness in his mouth. “What?”

He grazes a finger over Alec’s reddened cheeks.

“Now you have some color.”

Alec starts suiting up, his team positioned around him as they usually are, gingerly guiding him into the expensive pieces of a twelve million dollar spacesuit.

From afar, Alec is hyper aware of Magnus being desuited. His nerves flare as he registers Magnus making his way around the tiled perimeter of the pool, the distance between the two of them shrinking steadily. Maia gives him a cheery _hello_ as he gets close enough, and Magnus is as gracious as he always is with her.

Alec stubbornly focuses on Jordan, who’s aligning his left boot onto the lower torso of his suit and twisting it in place.

For someone who has adamantly said he doesn’t want to be friends with Magnus Bane, Alec sure feels like the fate of something great rests on this very moment. He hates himself for it.

What Alec learns of Magnus Bane today is that he keeps his promises.

Magnus walks away, eyes unyielding onto the floor, hands firmly in his pockets.

Alec would be lying if he said he didn’t feel like he lost something.

_**Station, this is Houston. Are you receiving and ready for the event?** _

They both stand in front of the camera, the mechanical interior of the Columbus module surrounding them on all sides. Alec fiddles slightly with a stray curl of hair that floats at an odd angle before tucking his hands into the pockets of his jumpsuit. Magnus holds the microphone close to his mouth, smiling widely.

“We hear you loud and clear, Houston, and we are ready for the event.”

_**Okay. Patching you to the fifth graders of Ben Murch Elementary School. Take it away, Principal Kalkan.** ___

Their monitors flicker from a solid blue to the slightly grainy image of a hundred or so ten-year-olds seated on the floor of a gymnasium, clumped together to fit into frame. Upon seeing Alec and Magnus on their projector, they all burst into amazed gasps, jumping up onto their feet. Alec laughs slightly as Principal Kalkan and her teachers try to usher them back into an organized, slightly less noisy crowd. One of the little girls exclaims, with her hands pressed against her cheeks in disbelief, _oh my gosh, look they’re floating!_

Magnus grins. “Hello, Ben Murch Elementary School.”

They explode in a chorus of _hello, astronaut Bane and astronaut Lightwood!_

Principal Kalkan speaks through the microphone excitedly, “Mr. Bane and Mr. Lightwood, I just want to say our students practiced very hard to get their greeting just right for you two.” 

“It does sound like it, Principal Kalkan,” Magnus says warmly, “Thank you so much for all your hard work. Alexander and I loved it very much.”

He gives Alec a small grin, and Alec returns it with a smile of his own. Magnus floats the microphone and Alec takes it.

“I was told our future astronauts have questions for us?” Alec asks, and a barrage of tiny hands shoot up excitedly into the air.

A little girl with long blonde hair gets chosen first, and she asks shyly, “My name’s Shelly, and I was wondering what’s it like in space?”

Alec smiles. “Hi, Shelly,” he says, “Space is really special. I guess the big thing is we don’t really walk in space. We float around the space station, just like this.”

Alec motions towards Magnus who demonstrates his point by propelling himself back and forth within Columbus. An awestruck _oooh_ rises from the group of kids, some of them popping up to try to see them better.

“And if astronaut Bane is nimble enough, he can show you a backflip and crawl up the walls like a spider,” Alec says, a hint of a teasing in his voice, which Magnus returns with a raised brow that seems to say _nimble enough_?

Magnus does both easily, and it brings about another wave of impressed gasps from the other side of their screen. 

Their questions are ones that Magnus and Alec often receive. One student asks about eating in space, so Alec lets a handful of M&M’s float around in the capsule as he and Magnus make a game of who can catch the most in their mouths. Another asks how they pee and poop in space, and Alec directs the question to Magnus who laughingly explains their simple toilet system, composed of a peeing hose and a smaller than average bowl. The kids really like it when Magnus tells them about a special part of their astronaut training where they mark a small dot on their butt and sit on a replica of their toilet bowl with a camera underneath. _Target practice_ , Magnus calls it, and the children burst into ecstatic giggles.

Magnus gives Alec a victorious grin. That joke never gets old.

Their last question comes from a quiet little boy. One of the teachers holds the microphone for him, and his fingers wrap around the top.

“I’m Rafe,” he mumbles.

Magnus gives him a kind smile. “Hello, Rafe. What can Alexander and I answer for you?”

Rafe looks down on the microphone meekly before glancing up at the projector again.

“You’re doing great,” Magnus says, nodding his head slightly. _Go on_.

“Can someone who’s different like me,” Rafe asks, “Be an astronaut too?”

Alec doesn’t need to look at Magnus to know the way his eyes have softened at the question. Alec has known Magnus for four years, and Alec has learned to read Magnus’ subtle actions as much as his grand gestures. If Magnus is the shift in the air, Alec is the barometer that can read the slightest change.

Magnus speaks into the microphone. “Of course you can. I believe you can be anything you want to be, Rafe,” he says gently, “And if you sometimes feel like you’re not strong enough or important enough, just remember, the universe isn’t just stars and planets and solar systems.. it’s you too. Every one of you. And that makes you an important, special part of everything that exists. The universe isn’t the universe without you in it.” He beams at the camera. “Always remember that.”

There are small fragments of their time on the Space Station where it’s not regimented into five-minute blocks of scientific activity. There are moments of pure, human emotion, and witnessing Rafe’s expression of utter revelation is one of them. Alec can feel Magnus wrestle his emotions onto the ground, pinning them down briefly to save face.

“Thank you, Rafe,” Principal Kalkan says, “And thank you, Mr. Bane, Mr. Lightwood for the fun time and those beautiful words. We at Ben Murch Elementary School would like to thank you both for spending time with us despite your very busy schedules.”

Alec takes the microphone to answer for them both. He says kindly, “It’s our pleasure. Thank you for giving us a call and checking in on us up here.”

The screen flickers blue and the line cuts.

_**Station, this is Houston. That concludes our event.** _

“You okay?” Alec asks, fingers to Magnus’ wrist, gentle.

Magnus, as he always does, goes big or goes home. He threads his fingers through Alec’s, squeezing reassuringly.

“I’m fine, Alexander.”

He presses his palm against the back of Alec’s hand, his touch lingering for what feels like forever and a day, before he finally unfurls their fingers apart. Magnus gives him a small smile before making his way out of Columbus and into Destiny, murmuring about getting his work schedule back on track.

Alec watches Magnus disappear around a corner, skin tingling at the points at which Magnus’ fingers have pressed.

It’s the Apollo 11’s fiftieth anniversary and, just as expected, NASA has honored their life-long motto: _go big or go home._

As such, the celebration of the momentous occasion has been split into many moving parts—a gala in the Johnson Space Center where the mission was conceived, a presentation at the Kennedy Space Center where Saturn V was assembled and ultimately launched, and a multimedia retelling of the events of the moon landing by the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C. where they expect thousands of attendees.

“They’re going to use the Washington Monument as a projection screen?” Christopher, one of the older members of their astronaut class, asks.

“Perfect size and shape for a rocket, don’t you think?” Jia, their Public Affairs Officer, answers, “Apparently it’s quite an astounding feat of an event.”

Alec tries to visualize what it would look like, but his brain falls short. It has been falling short for a while now. His ability to concentrate is shot, and he won’t lie to himself and say it doesn’t have anything to do with the man sitting at the end of their communal table, uncharacteristically quiet.

Normally, Magnus would’ve cracked a nonchalant, witty joke by now. He would’ve made the entire class laugh like a teenager grandstanding for his friends. He would’ve been utterly insufferable.

But of course, Magnus stays silent, index finger rolling his pen back and forth on the table. The concentration he maintains to not look up at Alec is so strong that it’s palpable in the air around them. Jia even looks over at him in concern.

Alec fights the urge to roll his eyes, because _Jesus Christ_. They’re on the precipice of going to space and seeing the expanse of the universe with their very eyes, and Magnus Bane is sulking like a jilted lover. There are things bigger than failed friendships and cold shoulders, and if Magnus can’t handle this small degree of isolation on earth, how the hell can he handle it in orbit?

“NASA wants this class to have a presence in all these events,” Jia continues, “So Chris, Helena, Benito, you all are staying here. Amare and Soo, to Kennedy.”

Alec could sigh. _Of course_.

“Alec and Magnus, to D.C.”

Alec nods in acknowledgement, and Magnus barely quirks a corner of his lips in a forced smile. When they exit their meeting, Alec finds Magnus talking to Jia in hushed tones.

 _This is fucking ridiculous_ , Alec fumes inwardly.

When Magnus walks away, Alec decides to follow. Alec is not yet sure how bad of an idea this is going to be, but he figures he will soon find out. He catches up to Magnus and with a hand on Magnus’ arm, Alec pulls him towards an empty hallway.

“Alexander—what the hell?!” Magnus hisses, jerking out of Alec’s grip.

“Get yourself together or get the fuck out of this program,” Alec seethes, and Magnus looks at him like he’s been slapped across the face.

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Magnus actually laughs in disbelief, “Darling, I’m the one doing exactly what you asked. You don’t get to come up to me with criticisms on how I’ve chosen to go about it.”

Alec feels anger coil in his gut as words slip through his tightly gritted teeth. “Are you really this childish that you’re sulking because I don’t have time or energy to make friends with you? Grow the fuck up, Magnus—”

“Did you know they were thinking of renouncing your candidacy?” Magnus says curtly, and the words slice through Alec so cleanly he could almost taste the blood in his mouth.

_“What did you say?”_

“They were thinking of kicking you out,” Magnus repeats, and Alec tries to scoff his words away. It doesn’t work.

_“You’re lying.”_

Magnus sighs softly, flummoxed. “Why would I?”

“Because of all people, how would _you_ know?”

“Who else could they approach with questions about your social skills? I’m the only person who hasn’t given up on making your acquaintance,” Magnus retorts, pausing briefly, “I suppose that’s not the case anymore.”

Alec can’t move. He only stares at Magnus in utter disbelief, and the spit in his throat leaves a heavy ache he can’t gulp away.

He manages one word. “Why?”

_Why would they do that? I’ve worked so hard._

Magnus exhales heavily, gaze flickering to the end of the hallway. The fight he puts up to not simply walk away is visible in his eyes, but ultimately, he turns to Alec and decides to grace him with an answer.

“Because it’s been two months and you haven’t deigned to speak to any of our astronaut class except for when it’s absolutely needed,” Magnus says, frowning, “We’re only as good as the teamwork we foster between ourselves. And you may be the smartest, most skilled candidate, but you’ve been so damn focused on the individual work that you’ve forgotten that no one survives in space alone.”

Color has left Alec’s skin, and his fingers quiver so much he has to ball them into fists to hide it. Magnus looks at him not with disdain, but with utter pity, like he sees Alec’s shortcomings and is sorry for all of them. The look in his eyes feels worse than any verbal or physical insult Alec could ever receive.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, brow furrowed but voice softened significantly, “When we go up, it’s not the experiments or the spacewalk training or even the damn ISS that will matter most.”

He motions a hand between them, at the connection that Alec won’t allow. “Trust is what matters most. Irrefutable, unwavering trust. Trust that I will keep you safe in orbit, just as you would me. Trust that I will come get you when you’ve run into trouble out on a spacewalk. Trust that I won’t let you go mad at the thought of being removed from everybody and everything that matters to you.”

Alec lets Magnus’ words pierce through his ribcage and into his chest where it settles heavily.

“But how can you trust me,” Magnus asks in frustration, “If you won’t even know me?”

And then Magnus asks the question that Alec himself hasn’t found the answer to. “Why do you feel so much disdain for me, Alexander?”

Magnus sounds almost desperate. Guilt neutralizes Alec’s anger and confusion, but self-preservation persists. The pained look on Magnus’ face makes Alec want to apologize, but his bruised pride holds him back from injuring it any further. He is at a loss.

Magnus looks like he knows he won’t get any answers from him.

“I told Jia to keep me here,” he finally murmurs, defeated, “Amare’s going to D.C. with you instead.”

With that, Magnus steps out of the hallway and walks away.

Magnus was telling the truth, Alec realizes, as he comes out of a meeting with NASA’s Chief Training Officer - although it wasn’t a meeting as much as it was him barging into Imogen’s office and demanding an explanation about the validity of Magnus’ claims. Imogen vetted Magnus completely.

Alec’s _hurt_. He’s wrangled every winding path of his life into a straight line towards this one goal, and he’s just figuring out now that he’s not good enough and never will be. You can train spaceflight into a person, but you can’t train someone’s personality away. And Alec can’t not be himself. Not anymore.

“What’s stopping you, then?” Alec breathes out, his own words stinging him, “Just kick me out now. I won’t be pitied into being an astronaut.”

“Mr. Lightwood, if we wanted you off the program, we would’ve done so a long time ago.” Imogen speaks simply but with gravitas, and it silences any argument Alec has on his tongue.

“As you can see, you’re still here,” she continues, “Obviously, we know your merit. You are your mother’s son, and it shows in your performance in every aspect of this program.”

“Nepotism,” Alec says acidly, “Should’ve known.”

Imogen will not be accused and she makes the fact known. “Alec, we chose you because at twenty-three you randomly submitted a proposal to increase solar panel efficacy on the ISS and it worked.”

Alec doesn’t know what to say, so he keeps silent. Imogen has always had that effect on him, both as a small child and a fully grown adult. Despite the lines of age around her eyes, she is the same stern woman his mother introduced him to fifteen years ago.

“Mr. Bane was right,” she continues, and the mention of Magnus’ name sends a bolt of surprise up Alec’s spine. “You can advance this program into the next century, and for that, we need you here. We’ve agreed to keep you under the condition that Magnus helps steer you into the right direction.”

He mutters quietly, “You shouldn’t have forced him to do that.”

Imogen shrugs, and even the small gesture is graceful. “Magnus suggested it himself.”

The silence that fills their space makes her eye Alec carefully, mulling over her next words.

“Your mother’s achievements during her time here will always be remembered,” Imogen says, “But something I will never forget of her are the small conversations we’ve shared. She has the rare gift of human connection.”

Alec’s heart lurches in his chest.

“You are your mother’s son. She was kind, and I know for a fact so are you, Alec,” she murmurs, “So _try._ ”

Alec’s fingernail drags across the denim of his pants, scratching it to the point of distress. He feels the heat of his phone warm his cheek as he waits for Izzy to speak.

She instead sighs from the other end of the line.

“Oh, Alec.”

Alec passes a hand over his eyes, exhaling.

“I know.”

Alec finds Magnus sitting at the edge of the NBL pool, dressed in a neck-to-ankle diving suit, legs dipped into the water.

Magnus kicks out gently, strong enough to ripple the surface of the pool but weak enough to not splash. Alec feels the urge to flee, because there will be, for sure, more opportunities for apologizing in the future, but Izzy’s voice scolds him mentally. _Just do it, Alec, Jesus_. 

He has to force himself to take a few steps forward until he finally settles into a quiet walk. The closer he gets, the more convinced he is that Magnus recognizes his presence. The line of his shoulder, which was already rigid to begin with, only grows tighter. Alec half hopes that Magnus will stand up and walk away. Maybe Magnus can spare them both the embarrassment of this moment.

But he doesn’t. He waits until Alec kicks off his runners and takes off his socks, padding barefoot on the tiles until Alec stops right next to him. Then, he speaks.

“Alexander, if you want to talk to me, you’re going to have to sit next to me,” he simply says, words surprisingly devoid of anger.

“It’s wet,” Alec mumbles, and Magnus chuckles.

“Darling, the last time I looked up a man, I was blowing him.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Alec sighs in a long-suffering way.

Magnus nods in agreement. “That’s what he said too.”

Alec sits down so fast the water splashes beneath him. He feels coldness seep through his pants and into his underwear, and his legs are beyond saving. He should just jump in.

Magnus laughs. “I was joking, by the way. I just don’t like craning my neck.”

“You’re awful,” Alec says flatly, and it only makes Magnus laugh even more. The sound is pleasant to Alec’s ears. He hasn’t ever heard anything but snarky remarks and sing-song teasing come out of Magnus’ mouth. Or angry words hissed through gritted teeth.

His laugh is pretty.

“Why are you here so late?” Alec asks, “And in a dive suit no less?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Magnus says, his smile small but proud, “But I’ve weaseled my way into security’s good graces and they’ve allowed me access to the lab after hours.”

The lab is unusually peaceful, and it could lull Alec to sleep if he let it. If only his nerves would let him have a moment of silence.

“What do you do?” Alec asks instead.

One of Magnus’ legs kicks up again, and his toes peek out of the water. “I just look,” he says, “I dive as deep as I can, and then I just look at the Space Station.”

Alec tries to visualize what that would feel like, diving suitless into a pool that is forty feet deep and ten Olympic pools wide, and in its water, metallic behemoths so encompassing that they might swallow you whole. Without the final layer of separation the spacesuit provides, it’s like looking the International Space Station in the eye.

Alec gets why someone like Magnus, who is in constant search for awe in life, would want to do it.

“They’ll scold you to the next year for this kind of shit, you know,” Alec says bluntly.

“I know,” Magnus acknowledges, “But I do believe it’s easier to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.”

Alec furrows his brow in confusion. “Why? What is it with you and breaking rules and needing to do things your own way?”

Magnus looks at him knowingly. “Is that why you hate me?”

Alec rolls his eyes. “I don’t _hate_ you.”

“What would you call it, then?” Magnus snickers, “Annoyance? Intolerance?”

“You just—” Alec grapples with his words, frustration starting to seep through, “Everything I stand for, you’re the complete opposite. Rules exist to prevent discord, and you keep breaking them and somehow they let it slide with no consequence. It’s one thing to be effortlessly good at shit, but you can’t be given passes at every opportunity just because you’re the class favorite.”

Magnus’ eyes light up with amusement, and it inspires his next sentiment.

“And you’re _smug_ , Magnus,” Alec says, exasperated, “ _So damn smug_. Why do you always look at me like you’re itching to be one-upped?”

Alec is breathing heavily when he finishes his rant, and finds Magnus smiling at him cheekily in response.

“First of all, Alexander, I do get in trouble,” Magnus corrects, “But only for things I get caught doing.” He lifts a leg and lets it splash onto the water loudly. “I’m quite stealthy in my ways, as you can see.”

“Well, tell me then, what things _did_ you get in trouble for?” Alec demands, but Magnus ‘tut-tuts’, wagging a finger in his direction.

“Oh, darling, we’re not quite there yet,” he says, smirking slightly, “Second of all, I’m personable, not favorited. People like me because I like them, and I make sure I show it. I’m quite proud of my social skills.”

“Smug,” Alec repeats, but it makes Magnus chuckle.

“And I wasn’t—am not—being smug. Believe it or not, Alexander, I was flirting.”

Alec snorts in disbelief. “Right.”

“I was, Alexander, I really was!” Magnus laughs openly, his shoulders shaking with the power of it. “I just thought, ex-military, overachiever, maybe would like some flirty competition.”

Alec can’t help but groan. “Why me?”

Magnus lets his loud laugh settle into a small snicker, shrugging. “You’ve seen yourself, I hope? Also, everybody else in our class is double our age.”

Alec huffs under his breath and Magnus raises both hands in defeat.

“Apparently, I misread,” he says. “Not the first time I got it wrong. But what’s life without a little risk?”

Alec sighs, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Your radar’s fine,” he mumbles, “Just not looking for anything.”

“Ah,” Magnus says, taken aback. He nods. “I see.”

A beat passes, and Magnus reaches out for his goggles and snorkel beside him. “Well, if that’s it, I’ll be underwater for the next—”

“Wait,” Alec grits, embarrassed and frustrated, “I still have to apologize to you.”

Magnus pauses, hands slowly coming down to rest on his lap. His gaze combs through Alec’s frankly laughable state; wet pants, slightly crumpled button up, and the strained look on his face.

“Right,” Magnus says, “Let me ease your conscience. You don’t have to.”

“No,” Alec urges, “I want to, just—give me a moment.”

“How about this, Alexander,” Magnus says, “Instead of apologizing, you tell me your story?”

Alec looks at him cautiously. “Why?”

“If I understand you, then I won’t need your apology,” Magnus says with a shrug, “Any story that tells me why you’re the way you are. Then we can go our separate ways and pretend this never happened.”

There’s a twinge in Alec’s chest, one that reminds him that the relative ease between him and Magnus in this very moment is a nothing but a sheet of shiny gossamer, one that barely hides the strained relationship that exists underneath. Magnus won’t be his friend after this. Alec doesn’t know at what point in this conversation he started hoping that he would be.

Magnus looks at him expectantly.

A part of Alec wants to hold his arms around himself like a bulletproof vest. But another part, a stronger part, feels the gently persistent gravity that Magnus is known for, and like a humble planet drawing ellipsis around a massive sun, he is pulled into Magnus’ kind allure.

The words fall from his mouth like water spilling over.

“I was twelve when my mom died.”

As the story of his childhood and everything that happened thereafter waterfalls out of Alec’s lips, Magnus doesn’t show him any pity. There are no ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’s being extended over the small space they share. Magnus only ever looks at Alec with gentle understanding, quiet, but so strongly _there_.

Alec momentarily looks up from hands and his eyes find Magnus’.

Magnus feels safe.

So, Alec continues.

“Shit,” Alec sniffs, eyes strained, “This is why I don’t talk about stuff like this.”

By the time Alec finishes, he feels like he’s run a marathon. His breathing is heavy and his heart is thrashing in against the cage of his ribs. He tries to think of ways to banish the glassiness from his eyes without reaching up to wipe it away, and Magnus, with his annoying sense of perceptiveness, slips off the edge of the pool and into the water. He takes Alec’s hand.

“What?” Alec almost demands as Magnus gives him an urgent tug.

“Come into the water,” Magnus simply says, and Alec looks at him like he’s gone mad.

“No.”

“Can’t you swim?”

Alec rolls his eyes and the tears threaten to trickle. He scratches them away quickly. “I was a fighter pilot, of course I can swim.”

“Then come into the water.”

Alec is truly convinced Magnus has become deluded. “ _Why?_ ”

Magnus mimics the roll of Alec’s eyes. “You can cry all you want underwater and no one will be the wiser.”

Alec feels another tug against his hand, and he looks at the thumb pressed against his fingers. It moves minutely against his skin, something he would misconstrue as an affectionate rub if he was more of a romantic.

“Come on,” Magnus murmurs, “Trust me. Just this once, Alexander.”

Alec, without knowing why nor how, submits to Magnus’ gentle gravity once again.

He heaves himself off the edge of the pool, disturbing the surface of the water with echoing ripples. He treads water for a while, pushing hair away from his eyes, and Magnus gives him an encouraging smile before diving out of sight. With a big gulp of air, Alec sinks into the water, his muscles returning to the familiar movements of a forward stroke. He follows Magnus deeper and deeper until they’re two small creatures in a vast ocean going down to meet a sunken giant face to face.

Magnus is right.

No one truly weeps underwater.

Of all the days to get caught.

Magnus and Alec stand in front of night shift security, towels wrapped around their shoulders, dripping wet. Alec mumbles undecipherable words under his breath while Magnus gives the man an apologetic grin. Alec already knows Magnus’ strategy is going to work.

“Magnus, when I said you can visit after hours, I meant you can sit by the benches and look around,” the elderly man says exasperatedly, “Not skinny dip in the buoyancy lab, for God’s sakes. Plenty other places to have a date.”

Alec is about to retort - obviously they were _not_ skinny dipping, and what they were doing was most certainly _not_ a date - but Magnus settles a placating hand on his arm.

“My apologies, Nicky,” he says, winding an arm around Alec’s waist, pulling him close, “Just got a bit carried away, right, Alexander?”

Alec forces a small smile. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Won’t happen again,” Magnus promises, his hand leaving Alec’s side to settle gently on the small of his back instead. Alec begrudgingly relishes the warmth with which the two spots of contact leave him as he shivers in the cold air around them.

“You know I have to rebuke your after-hour privileges, right?” Nicky asks, and Magnus nods in acceptance.

“Understood.”

“I’m giving you two fifteen minutes to get sorted out,” he says, already walking away, “And then I’m locking up. You don’t show up at the doors, you get locked in. Got it?”

Magnus gives him a small salute. “Got it.”

Nicky walks off and disappears through the door, and only then does Magnus pull back his hand. He turns to Alec. “You’ve got extra clothes?”

Alec tries to suppress another shiver. “Yeah. Got some spare work out clothes.”

“Okay,” Magnus nods, “All the best, Alexander.”

Before Alec realizes it, he has caught Magnus’ wrist just as he’s about to walk away. Magnus peers back at him curiously, hair spiked in odd directions after a thorough scrub with his towel. Alec uses the ridiculousness of how he looks as a buffer for his nerves.

“Magnus,” he says stiffly, “I really am sorry.The shit I said at lunch and in the hallway, it’s not a judgement of you.” Alec’s brow creases in regret. “It’s a problem with me. I don’t do feelings very well, as you probably already know. I’ve been a bomb ready to explode for the last fifteen years, and you were the closest person within reach. The only person, actually.”

He raises his eyes to meet Magnus’. “I’m sorry.” he mutters, “And thanks for trying with me.”

Alec cannot decipher the expression on Magnus’ face. Before Magnus pulls his wrist from Alec’s fingers, he gives Alec’s hand a squeeze.

“Good night, Alexander.”

They dry off and change clothes, and they walk out to their cars as Nicky locks the doors to the Neutral Buoyancy Lab.

Alec finds that he has to inhale and exhale before he scoops a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

NBL was hard today, but not as hard as it was three days ago. With this pleasant realization, Alec is happy. He finds that his dexterity in the fabricated weightlessness of space is just the slightest bit better. He kept his tools within his gloved grasp and didn’t lose any screws to fake microgravity today. It seems like a small feat, but all feats are important up in orbit.

Maia had clapped a hand over his back in congratulations of a job well done, and Imogen had offered the same sentiment over the loudspeakers as she watched from the test director room overlooking the pool. Alec remembers smiling at the affirming words, but the smile felt tight on his mouth. What persists, even as he sits at a solitary table in the cafeteria, is the image of Magnus swimming in front of him in his dive suit, and the ghost touch of his thumb on Alec’s fingers.

Alec realizes he’s been staring at his lunch for longer than socially acceptable and takes another bite of potato. He cuts a piece of roast beef to go along with it.

When he sought out Magnus in the pool last night, he didn’t expect an acceptance of his apology. Not a lot of people would do so after being rejected as an acquaintance and told to _get yourself together or get the fuck out of this program_. Alec winces at the rudeness of it. He’s always had the propensity to be crude, but there’s something about Magnus that just coaxed him to his breaking point. And worst of all, Alec allowed it to happen.

He’s thought a lot about why Magnus sets him off so easily, and Alec supposes it’s because Magnus is the type of free that Alec could never let himself become. He sees in Magnus a happiness that maybe he could’ve grasped if he had had a chance at a childhood gone right.

Alec lost Maryse when he was twelve years old. His gentle, smiling, astrophysicist mother who showed him moon landing films and taught him lessons about spider webs and facing his fears. She took him to work whenever she could, sat him in her office as she worked through Spitzer data while he colored Pluto an inaccurate shade of red. And then, suddenly, she was gone. Alec had wondered then, as he stood amongst black-clad relatives with a crying Izzy held tightly to his side, if cancer had the same velocity as a comet streaking into the atmosphere. It sure took their mother away from them just as fast.

Everything else after that had been a blur.

All Alec can remember is wanting so fiercely to find remnants of his mother in his own work.

And yet, it’s been months since he started training at NASA, and Alec feels more removed from her than ever. Removed from everybody. It’s a depressing thought, and it makes Alec duck his head in fear that he might actually cry.

He is jostled into looking up by his table shaking under someone’s weight.

Magnus sits across from him in his brilliant blue NASA jumpsuit, lunch tray in hand. He looks utterly famished.

“I’m _starving_ ,” he groans, spooning chicken curry into his mouth and taking a bite out of his naan bread, “They kept me in that meeting for what felt like forever. A meeting that could‘ve easily been an e-mail.”

Alec looks at Magnus, eyes widening in surprise.

Magnus brandishes his utensil as he chews. “You’d think NASA would know better.”

Alec’s brain is devoid of words, so he hums in agreement instead, still taken aback. Magnus takes another heaped mouthful of food and swallows.

He smiles cheekily. “How was NBL?” he asks, as if to say _let’s try this again_.

Alec could laugh under his breath. He answers almost breathlessly.

“It was fine.”

Magnus begins a spiel about their upcoming Canadarm training, and Alec feels somewhat awestruck.

He already knows, as he watches Magnus wave his spoon about, that this feeling of awe will always come back to Alec in the days to come.

On the anniversary of Maryse’s death, Magnus draws Alec away from his work once again.

“Come on,” Magnus urges, pulling a mildly exasperated Alec away from his work bench, “Please, Alexander, just for a little bit.”

There is no fight left in Alec’s body as Magnus clasps their hands together. He lets himself be floated into their seven-windowed observatory with no resistance, every strand of muscle knowing that as long as it’s Magnus, Alec will concede.

Magnus takes the hidden photo of Maryse from his pocket, one that he carefully untacked from the wall of Alec’s bunk, and tapes it onto the circular center pane of the Cupola’s glass dome. Her image is to the glass, her dimpled smile reflected in the slightly dusty surface, as if to let her see the view.

“You said Maryse would have loved to see the sunrise from space,” Magnus says, smiling gently, “And since lighting a candle for her is kind of a nonstarter, I figured this would be the next best thing.”

Alec looks at Magnus in muted disbelief. In a whispered, nighttime conversation in their shared room during their Soyuz training in Star City, Alec once mentioned how his mother always wondered what it would be like to _be_ in space, rather than just abstractly understand it. They were all fleeting, daydream thoughts, ones she didn’t fully entertain as a single mother with two kids in the thick of middle school, but to Alec, it never mattered. He would’ve given anything and everything to see his mom happy.

She would’ve made an amazing astronaut.

Magnus worries the ring on his finger, twisting it nervously. Alec realizes he has been silent for longer than he means to.

“Is this okay?” he asks, “I apologize for not asking.”

“It’s okay,” Alec croaks, reaching out to settle his fingers onto Magnus’ elbow, “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Magnus.”

Magnus smiles again, and it’s as soft as sunlight beaming through the curtains of an open window. He curves himself around Alec, his chest brushing against his back, and Alec feels Magnus’ fingers press against the line of his jaw. They wait for a sunrise.

It would be the fourth of sixteen.

Outside, a small pinprick of light grows steadily into a thin line of brightness, until a blinding burst of sunlight spills over the Earth’s curved edge. Out of the sixteen sunrises that the ISS gives them, there’s something about this one that compels a feeling so unfathomably strong within Alec’s chest, so swift and forceful that he fails to curtail it as it comes out of his mouth.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

Magnus’ thumb continues to draw circles on Alec’s shoulder, eyes still watching the view before them.

Alec realizes Magnus thinks the words are for his mother.

Alec decides not to correct him.

After all, you don’t say _I love you_ as if you’re trying it on for size.


	2. Chapter 2

“Uh oh,” Aline says under her breath, and it makes Maia look up from her work.

“What?” Maia asks, in the middle of lining up air tanks by the pool edge.

Aline picks out another mask from the cradle of her arm and plops it onto a tank. “Magnus is at it with Alec again.”

Maia squints at the two figures standing by the far corner of the pool, hands gesticulating in the air as they get into yet another heated discussion. Magnus prods a finger on Alec’s chest and Alec’s shoulders tense in response.

Another day, another argument. It could be about anything at this point.

Maia sighs, brows knitted in mild confusion. “They would make great friends if they just stopped being so dumb around each other.”

Aline snickers as she moves towards the pile of flippers to her right. “They make for good entertainment though.”

“What do you mean?” Maia asks, taken by the way Aline’s tone curls suggestively at the end of her statement.

Aline flashes her perfect teeth at Maia in a sly smile, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Nicky found them taking a dip in the pool after hours. And they were _really close_.”

“No,” Maia whispers, leaning in, “How close?”

Aline drops the flippers to the floor and holds her palms a foot away from each other. Maia’s eyes widen, her hand pressing flush against her mouth to corral an unexpected gasp. Aline nods excitedly, and they both take a few quiet steps closer to where Magnus and Alec are still engaged in an intense debate.

Aline and Maia watch as Magnus leans forward, saying words they can’t quite decipher, and Alec’s frown twitches into something close to a smile. Alec visibly tries to stifle whatever is trying to bubble out of him, but all it takes is another poke to his chest—a teasing one, Maia realizes—for Alec to break spectacularly.

A laugh escapes his lips, not at all gentle, but big and booming like it comes from the deepest part of him. Alec throws his head back, palm pressing against the point where his shoulder meets his chest, and the corners of his eyes crinkle into lines of happiness. Magnus echoes him, giggling joyfully, but instead of eyes squeezed shut he gazes at Alec like he’s watching a scene from a film.

Maia breathes out, awestruck. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Alec laugh.”

Aline shrugs a shoulder, grinning. “I have a feeling we’ll be hearing it more often from now on.”

_**Station, this is Houston. Are you receiving and ready for the event?** _

Alec adjusts himself minutely. Right across from him, safe from the inquisitive gaze of the camera, is Magnus, hovering over agar plates as he selects one to slot onto the base of a modified microscope. Magnus says something undecipherable into his headset, and whatever he hears from the other end of the line must be a pretty good joke because he throws his head back and laughs.

Alec barely fights the urge to roll his eyes. Who knew cancer researchers could be _so funny?_

_**Station?** _

Alec scrambles to snatch the microphone from where it has slowly floated away.

He almost sputters. “I hear you loud and clear, Houston.”

There’s a pause on the other line and Alec wonders if CAPCOM is judging him for being prickly at the thought of some scientist on Earth shooting her four hundred kilometer shot at his best friend.

_**Okay. Patching you to the students of McGill University.** _

The fifteen-minute interview passes quickly. With his mind half occupied by Magnus laughing across his communication line, Alec’s answers become the well-practiced sound bites he’s used many times before. He tells the engineering students of McGill that teamwork is the most important aspect of long-duration spaceflight and that his favorite experiments onboard are the ones involving growing vegetables in space. Magnus laughs again, and Alec barely catches the beginning of the last question asked of him.

“One more time?” Alec asks, smiling sheepishly at his misstep.

A female voice crackles over the radio.

“What’s the best view you’ve seen from space?”

Alec pauses. He’s never been asked that question before.

He remembers a small, crystal clear lake in Ethiopia, surrounded by patches of green and brown terrain, shining like a silver coin dropped in the middle of a muddy bank. He remembers shades of blue swirling together in the sea off the coast of Mumbai, akin to the curls on the side of somebody’s head. He remembers the concentric rings of the Richat Structure, an eroded dome in one of the most inhospitable deserts in the world, a dusty bullseye of white, blue, and brown.

But then his mind’s eye shifts from the magnificent views of the Earth below to the face that always accompanies Alec’s every visit to the Cupola. Alec sees bright eyes and the curling of lips into a smile. When Magnus speaks, it is from the heart, his words echoing around him in waves of affection.

“New York at night,” Alec says instead.

When the media event ends, Magnus finally leaves his work station and grabs Alec by the hand.

“Supper?” he asks brightly, shining at him a sunlit smile.

Alec, silent and lunar, siphons his light gratefully. “Yeah.”

When they look out of the Cupola that night, Magnus’ face is reflected in the glass, his features superimposed over the image of the Earth before them.

_**Astronaut Bane, thank you very much for doing this interview with the American Journal of Medicine. I know you are incredibly busy up there on the Station.** _

_It’s my absolute pleasure. I’ve referenced your publication many times in my thesis, so I will always have time for the American Journal of Medicine._

_**Really? That’s—that’s quite amazing. I can’t wait to share that with the staff, they’ll be utterly ecstatic.** _

_Please tell them I say hi!_

_**Will do. Oh, man.** _

_[laughs] Are you okay? Or do you need a moment?_

_**[laughs] I’m okay, we can get back to business. Fan moment aside, can you tell us more about the work you’re doing in the International Space Station?** _

_Of course. There are 127 ongoing experiments up here on the ISS. During our three years in astronaut school, we were trained to wear multiple STEM hats as we have experiments up here that pretty much touch every branch of science. For example, Alexander is working with NASA physicists on confined combustion, which studies how fire spreads in a confined, pressurized space. He’s really excited about that. [laughs] He likes the thought of being the first person in space to start a fire._

_**A fire in a spaceship 250 miles from Earth sounds dangerous.** _

_I agree! Somebody’s gotta do it, right?_

_**There’s also medical research onboard the Station from what I’ve heard?** _

_Yes. I’m very glad you brought that up. As a biomedical engineer, anything that relates to healthcare is special to me. We have Parkinson’s research ongoing right now, and Astronaut Garroway, who just came back up again to the Station in the last Soyuz launch, is in charge of manning that experiment. Protein structures sent up by scientists on the ground are grown in the microgravity environment of space, and we’ve found that these proteins—very important markers in Parkinson’s—grow more robust up here. It gives researchers on Earth a better chance of producing inhibitor drugs that could address this disease, and hopefully one that has less neuropathic side effects._

_**Out of all the medical experiments in the ISS, what experiment interests you the most?** _

_There is one experiment that I specifically requested to be assigned to._

_**Astronauts can do that?** _

_[laughs] Well, I am quite persuasive. It’s a topic that I regard with utmost importance, and the experiment is called the AngieX Cancer Therapy experiment. Similar to our Parkinson’s research, it studies cell growth in the microgravity of space. We’ve found that the endothelial cells that, as you know, make up blood vessels, grow better up here. This experiment hopes to pave the way to better testing of cancer drugs that target the vasculature that feeds tumor cells, making it cost-effective and accessible to the public._

_**That’s very important work you’re doing. Is there any particular reason why this experiment resonates with you the most, if you don’t mind me asking?** _

_I don’t mind at all. Somebody that I love dearly has been affected by cancer. I do it for him._

_**I’m sure he appreciates your dedication. Thank you very much for answering our questions, Mr. Bane. All the best up in space, and thank you for the work that you do.** _

_It’s my pleasure, Randy. Thank you for the chat._

Geology field training brings Magnus and Alec to the airport at eight-thirty in the morning to catch a plane bound for New Mexico.

“You didn’t forget your passport, did you?” Alec asks as they approach the check-in counter.

Magnus pats at his pockets, his jaw growing slack. “Shit.”

Alec groans. “I literally reminded you on our way out—”

Magnus waves the small book at Alec’s face, teasing. “Of course I didn’t forget. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Alec hums, eyes squinting in thought, and Magnus jokingly taps his passport against Alec’s cheek.

“I’m beginning to think your sense of humor is as dry as your pasta,” Magnus says as he takes another step forward, his carry-on bag dragging behind him.

Alec isn’t even remotely surprised when he catches the Louis Vuitton monogram on Magnus’ luggage. Magnus has always liked the finer things in life.

“I suggested we eat out,” Alec says pointedly, adjusting the strap of his duffel that digs into his left shoulder. “You were the one who wanted to test drive my cooking skills.”

“You didn’t quite tell me you had none,” Magnus quips, before giving the attendant behind the desk a cheery _good morning_ and presenting her with his travel documents.

Alec places his passport and itinerary on the counter right next to Magnus’.

“Nine-thirty flight to Farmington?” the attendant asks, and both of them nod.

“I thought my silence was indication enough,” Alec grumbles under his breath, and Magnus laughs.

“Your silence indicated shit, darling.”

The flight attendant slips a boarding pass into each of their respective passports and hands both to Magnus.

“Have a good flight,” she says with a happy smile, and before Magnus and Alec can say their _thank you_ s, she leans over the counter and speaks in a secretive whisper.

“You two are so cute together.”

Alec’s eyes widen, mouth falling open, but Magnus shines the woman a bright grin, cheekily slipping underneath Alec’s arm.

“Thank you,” he says, temple pressed against Alec’s shoulder, and his fingers flutter gently against Alec’s waist. “Just got married, actually.”

The woman’s face brightens at the statement. She rifles through a drawer beneath the counter, producing two vouchers for the lounge bar. “Have a drink on us. Congratulations.”

Alec presses his lips together. Hanging out at the lounge surely beats sitting in an overcrowded waiting room with bawling children flanking him on either side. He pulls Magnus flush against him, and if he’s surprised at how perfectly Magnus fits there, he doesn’t show it.

“Thanks,” Alec says, and Magnus reaches out to take the vouchers.

“You just made our day, Sylvia.” Magnus sighs contentedly, before looking up at Alec. “We should head off, darling.” He winks. “You know how we get.”

“Late,” Alec clarifies, a finger held out in a gesture towards the attendant, “We get late.”

Magnus stifles a laugh as he pulls them both out of line. “Thank you again!”

They walk away, wheeling their luggage behind them, bodies still slotted together in an attempt to keep their story believable.

Magnus giggles as they step onto the moving walkway. “Your cooking skills may be nonexistent, but your acting skills are quite passable, Alexander.”

Alec rolls his eyes, a laugh squashed against the roof of his mouth. “Gee, thanks for that glowing commendation.”

“Aren’t you glad you’re friends with me?” Magnus teases, elbow to Alec’s side. He doesn’t peel away; instead, he settles closer.

Alec laughs under his breath. “Maybe.”

When they get to the lounge, Magnus pulls Alec through the door by their threaded fingers.

“The Europeans are in Spain right now, Alexander,” Magnus mourns as he nurses his martini in one hand. “In three days they’ll be in Germany and then off to Italy. And here we are, en route to Farmington.”

Alec takes a small sip from his beer. “How do you even know this?”

“I have a friend who works for the European Space Agency,” Magnus answers sadly, “An annoying prick, but a friend, nonetheless.”

“We’re going to be looking at rocks, Magnus,” Alec says flatly, “It’s not going to matter where we do it.”

“Yes, it does,” Magnus argues, “After scaling the mouth of a crater the entire day, I’d like to know that there’s a lovely little seaside restaurant with the best Prosecco I’ve ever tasted waiting for me around the corner.”

“I’m sure there’s an Olive Garden somewhere in New Mexico,” Alec says as seriously as he can, holding back a snicker as Magnus groans despairingly.

Magnus is muttering more dramatics under his breath when Alec’s phone begins to ring. He picks it up, swipes at the screen, and places it against his ear.

_“What the hell, Alec?”_

Alec cringes. “Iz, what’s up?”

Magnus brightens beside him. “Izzy? Your sister, Izzy? The Manhattan lawyer, Izzy?”

Alec waves an irate hand in Magnus’ direction, shushing him. It doesn’t work.

_“You didn’t call me back about your fight with Magnus. Am I just supposed to make up the ending to your dramatic story?”_

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Alec mumbles, his thumb pressing into his forefinger until it starts to blanch. “It’s all good. We figured it out.”

_“Alec, you haven’t called me for three weeks!”_

“I got busy!” Alec says defensively, swatting away Magnus’ fingers as he tries to pry the phone from Alec’s hands.

“Let me talk to her, Alexander, _please_?” Magnus asks, beseeching, chin on Alec’s shoulder, “Your sister should meet your best friend.”

Alec makes a noise that is halfway between indignant and fond. “Bold of you to assume you’re my best friend.”

_“What the hell are you talking about?”_

Alec sighs frustratedly. “Not you, I was talking to Magnus—”

_“You’re with Magnus?! Man, Alec, you really solved that problem.”_

Magnus steals a sip from Alec’s beer. “I’m your only friend, Alexander, and I know that for a fact.”

“Shut up and drink, _please_ ,” Alec pleads, pushing his glass towards Magnus when Izzy gasps on the other end of the line.

_“You’re having drinks with Magnus?! You REALLY solved that problem. If you know what I mean.”_

“Oh god, please, shut up—”

_“I saw your class photo, he’s hot! Get it!”_

“Get what?” Magnus asks brightly, pressing his ear closer.

_“Just pull him into a dark corner, grab him by the shirt, and just hardcore make out—”_

“Okay!” Alec yells over the line, “Okay, okay, can we not?”

_“Hmm, depends. Let me talk to him.”_

“Fine,” Alec says, “But can you please cool it?”

Izzy cackles. “ _Deal._ ”

Alec sighs heavily, a man beaten in a ridiculous game of chess. He drags his hand across his jaw, already exhausted, and hands Magnus his phone.

“Here.”

Magnus takes the phone gleefully and when he talks with Izzy, it’s like they’re two long lost friends separated by time.

Alec could almost laugh.

Almost.

_**Station, this is Houston, are you receiving and ready for morning debrief?** _

Luke takes the radio transceiver and speaks into it. “We’re hearing you loud and clear, Houston. The crew is gathered and ready for morning debrief.”

“Chris Hemsworth can debrief me anytime,” Magnus says through a big yawn, arms stretching above his head, “Or Cate Blanchett. Either would be lovely.”

 _ **Good morning, Magnus,**_ CAPCOM greets fondly, before pointedly saying, _**And can I remind everybody that debriefs are transcribed for reference and accessible by NASA execs when needed?**_

“Good,” Magnus grins, “Let it be known that Magnus Bane has watched Thor: Ragnarok one too many times.”

“Is he always like this?” Luke laughs, shaking his head.

 _ **You’ll get used to Magnus’ brand of inappropriate humor, Luke,**_ CAPCOM chuckles back, _**You’ll even find him funny after a few months in orbit.**_

“You wound me, CAPCOM,” Magnus mourns, “Have you been talking to Mikhail? You’re almost as good as him at teasing me.”

_**He’s e-mailed us some choice jabs.** _

“Well, he’s not having any more of my coffee stash, that’s for sure,” Magnus harrumphs, “He can drink garbage coffee until he gets shot back to Earth.”

Alec rolls his eyes where he’s stationed in front of his laptop, today’s schedule open on the screen. He hooks an ankle against Magnus’ and tugs at it to grab his attention.

“Focus,” he says pointedly, “You too, CAPCOM. I expect better from you.”

_**Station, I think we detect something on our radar, and it’s the stick up Alec’s behind.** _

Magnus laughs loudly, the sound infectious.

“I thought we were worried about the debrief transcripts?” Alec asks, unable to hide his own smirk.

“They should try living in space for a year!” Magnus exclaims, eyes still pinched with laughter, “Then maybe they can say something.”

“Anyways,” Luke finally interjects, laugh settling to a smile, “Morning debrief.”

_**Yes. Thank you, Luke. The biggest thing today is that we’re doing some clean up in the space closet to prepare for the arrival of the European Space Agency’s ATV-3. We need to make way for the seven tonnes of cargo it carries, so as you can see on your agenda, we’re rerouting most of Luke’s and Alec’s day to this task. All other experiments are rescheduled for tomorrow.** _

Magnus floats happily to Alec’s side, poring over the open spreadsheet on his laptop. Alec notes a particularly large block of time with the words ‘permanent multi-purpose module clean-up’ written in bold letters across it.

_**Magnus, you’re starting your day with more AngieX research, and then Vascular Echo. Blood samples for the Functional Immune Investigation, a quick media event with the Gadjah Mada University, and then you’ll join Luke and Alec in clean up duty.** _

Magnus pulls up his schedule on the laptop and finds his day separated in shorter blocks for most of the morning.

_**If you guys finish early, the to-do list is available for perusal.** _

“Copy that, CAPCOM,” Luke says, and before they disperse to start their day, the line crackles back to life.

_**Magnus, your weekly phone call is available if you want it.** _

Magnus is already making his way out of the Tranquility module.

“Not today, CAPCOM, thank you,” he calls back.

If Alec was anybody else, he wouldn’t hear the barely-there wobble in Magnus’ otherwise steady voice. He wouldn’t sense the well-hidden desperation in the way Magus tries to leave before he can even hear the question. He wouldn’t add yet another line to his mental tally of all the phone calls Magnus has refused to make in the past seven months of being in orbit.

But Alec is Alec.

So, he does.

“Are you for real?” Alec asks in disbelief.

Magnus huffs, hands on his hips. “I didn’t know.”

Alec blinks, hand passing over his mouth. He says slowly, “You’re a biochemical engineer with a masters in Biomedical Technology. You won the IEEE Biomedical Engineering Award two times in a row for your work in robotic cardiac assist devices.”

Magnus rolls his eyes. “Alexander, I get it.”

Alec tries not saying anything, but he ends up blurting out, “You were working with the Bill Gates Foundation with their global development division.”

“Your point,” Magnus says, extremely annoyed, “Get to it.”

Alec shakes his head incredulously.

He asks, “How do you not know to bring a tent when camping?”

Magnus clutches his solitary sleeping bag as the rest of the team lay out their tents and assemble their poles.

“It’s New Mexico, Alexander,” Magnus grits, eyes narrowed, “It’s as hot as balls and as dry as beef jerky, and I will not be saddled by a fold-up tent if I don’t need to be.”

“Were you just planning to sleep out here? With just your bag?” Alec asks, and Magnus throws his hands in the air.

“I don’t know,” Magnus exclaims, “It’s just one night in the wilderness!”

“Magnus,” Alec says seriously, “That’s still not a good enough excuse.”

Magnus shrugs, hiking boots scuffing the earth and throwing dust into the air. He’s spent the entire day trekking on dusty bedrock under the scorching sun. He’s been looking at, scratching, and even sniffing rocks from dusk until dawn. He truly doesn’t need a lecture from the most type-A person in the known universe.

“I don’t know what you want me to do at this point,” Magnus says in exasperation, “And honestly, simply talking about the mechanics of the problem doesn’t advance us any further, so can we just move on to finding a solution?”

Alec snickers. “That is the most astronaut way of saying _I fucked up and I need help_.”

“Well, I fucked up and I need help, so there you go.” Magnus huffs again, holding his sleeping bag closer to his chest.

Amare calls from inside her already erected tent. “No fighting, children.”

Alec rolls his eyes and peers over Magnus’ shoulder, calling out, “We’re not fighting.”

Alec turns to Magnus, tugging the sleeping bag from his arms. He unzips the door to his tent and tosses the bag in. He says pointedly, “You’re lucky I brought a two-person tent.”

“And you’re lucky I don’t snore,” Magnus answers back, kicking his boots off and crawling through the door.

Alec sighs, shaking his head. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

Alec has only known Magnus for three weeks, and yet Alec’s life feels nothing it was before. It’s confusingly messy and at times so unbearably loud, a happy kind of chaos. 

Alec realizes, as Magnus peeks out of the tent and looks back at him expectantly, that he doesn’t mind the mess. 

Alec kicks off his own boots and follows suit. 

The rolling clay hills of the Ah-Shi-Sle-Pah badlands are merely dim outlines of themselves as the afternoon sun settles into a moonless evening. A crackling fire burns in the middle of the circle formed by their erected tents, and Eddie, their tour guide and geology professor, feeds the flames with small twigs.

Alec stands close to the heat, letting it lick his cheeks.

Magnus sighs beside him, a mug of hot chocolate between his palms. He gazes at the mushroom-shaped rock formations that rise from the rocky terrain around them, the composition of which they studied earlier during the day.

“As far as rocks go,” Magnus says, “These are extremely pretty.”

Alec smirks slightly, hands shifting in his pockets. “Still want to be looking at rocks in Italy?”

Magnus makes a sound of amusement.

“Desperately,” he says, “But New Mexico isn’t half as bad as I expected it to be.”

Magnus looks up at the ink-black sky above their heads. He exhales, eyes glassy with wonder.

“That’s not too bad either.”

In the absence of light pollution, a phosphorescent, star-dappled night sky presents itself to their naked eyes wholly and abundantly. After a long day of work, it feels like a soothing balm to their tired bodies. It may not be Magnus and Alec’s main purpose for driving into the heart of this sandstone-capped landscape, but it’s a beautiful reward nonetheless.

Magnus walks away from the fire, slipping past the tents, and into the dimness of the desert outside their campsite. Alec follows curiously; he knows that where Magnus goes, there usually is something great to behold.

Without the orange flicker of the bonfire, the Milky Way stands out even more starkly than before. It domes around Magnus and Alec, immersing them fully as if they have been plucked from the shore and dropped into the middle of a scintillating ocean.

It reminds Alec of his childhood dreams; a young version of him in his bulky spacesuit, tethered to his ship, and waving hello at a slowly turning Earth.

Magnus is already sprawled on the ground, his head cradled by the arm he pins underneath it. He motions towards Alec with his free hand; _lie down_.

Alec does, a foot away, as if it’s practice for the long, sleepless night he will inevitably endure tonight. He breathes deeply, blinking up at the image of the universe above them.

“I can’t wait to go up there,” Alec says.

“How do you know they’ll send you up?” Magnus asks.

“You know the saying ‘it’s so close you could almost taste it?’” Alec answers quietly, “I could. Like it’s on the tip of my tongue.” He exhales, voice dropping to a murmur. “I’ve wanted it for as long as I can remember. When you want something that much, you just know.”

Blue and red giants wink at them from above where they sit in their respective constellations. Cosmic bodies that are billions of years old watching two specks of carbon talk about their dreams and aspirations - there is nothing more human than this. 

“Your dedication is unmatched, Alexander,” Magnus says warmly, “And I agree. They’d be stupid not to send you.”

Alec looks to his right and sees only the outline of Magnus’ face in the darkness. It draws a line from his eyes down to the slope of his nose, until it curves into a mouth that looks as soft as galactic clouds. Alec feels compelled to look at him through a telescope.

“Why’d you become an astronaut, Magnus?” Alec asks, the question coming to him suddenly.

Magnus blinks. His head shifts against the pillow of his arm.

“It’s not as beautiful a story like yours, I’m afraid,” he says.

“Still,” Alec mutters, “Tell me.”

Magnus takes a moment.

“I have something to prove,” he says simply.

Magnus’ answer ends there. No more, no less, and Alec senses that this is all he’s going to get for now. Alec doesn’t know what to offer someone who has offered him a lifeline when he needed it the most. How do you offer strength to the strongest person you know? Overused lines and scripted responses come to mind immediately, and Alec rejects them all.

“If you need me, Magnus,” Alec chooses to say with as much sincerity as he can, “I’m here.”

Alec feels Magnus smile. Then he feels a grateful touch against the back of his hand, a momentary squeeze of his fingers, but before he realizes what it is, it’s gone.

“Thank you, Alexander.”

The stars above wink at them again.

Luke watches as an argument broils before him.

“Magnus—no, it doesn’t go that way,” Alec grits out, tugging on the white rectangular fridge-sized bag, “It has to be flush against the rest of the stowage.”

Magnus huffs, pulling himself over the top of the bag to throw Alec an incredulous look.

“Alexander, if we shift this bag nadir side, we can fit two of these smaller bags from the ATV perfectly.”

Alec gives his tablet a pointed shake. “That’s not what the Excel sheet says.”

“Look,” Magnus says, “Michael’s a great inventory officer and a great singer to boot, but he’s on Earth. We’re the ones with eyes on the module. It’s better to free more space.”

Alec asks, “Can you please, for once in your life, follow protocol? I’m literally begging you. Literally.”

Magnus waves a hand. “You know I’m right.” He then grabs the transceiver connected to CAPCOM and speaks into it. “CAPCOM, tell Alexander I’m right.”

Magnus stares at Alec pointedly, and Alec smirks as he turns away.

A laugh crackles out of the small speaker. _**Station, we are Switzerland.**_

“CAPCOM, that is weak and cowardly,” Magnus says flatly.

Alec steals the transceiver from Magnus and says, “We’re getting back on track here, CAPCOM, I promise. Come on, Magnus.”

Magnus folds his arms across his chest. “So, nadir side?”

“ _No,_ ” Alec presses and their dispute continues.

Luke takes the transceiver from where it has floated off and speaks into it under his breath. “So, who’s in the right here, CAPCOM? I feel like I should hurry this along.”

_**Well, technically both ways work. They’ll figure it out soon. Alec usually folds in a few minutes.** _

Luke watches as Alec finally throws his hands up, muttering under his breath in defeat. Magnus floats towards him with a wide grin, affectionately squeezing Alec’s face between his hands before taking the stowage bag and flipping it horizontally to store it beneath their feet. For someone who initially had a lot to say, Luke notes that Alec sure doesn’t look so irate now.

“Are they always like this?” Luke asks.

Luke can hear CAPCOM smile from 200 miles away.

_**You’ll get used to them.** _

“Do it right, Magnus.”

“You do it right!”

Luke places the transceiver back onto its holder and helps Magnus and Alec push the bag flush into the space below them.

He wonders if NASA realizes they sent the first in-love astronauts to space.

  
“Alexander.”

Alec shifts slightly in his sleeping bag but doesn’t answer. Maybe if he keeps quiet, Magnus will simply fall asleep. Alec is tired, sleep won’t come, and Magnus is barely a foot away from him, whispering things.

It surely doesn’t help.

Magnus whispers again, “Are you asleep?”

Alec scrunches his closed eyes, a rumble of sleepy acknowledgment coming from his lips. Maybe Magnus can take a hint.

“I know you’re awake,” Magnus says flatly, and Alec flips himself onto his back with a soft huff.

“Was I that obvious?” Alec mumbles, and Magnus laughs softly under his breath.

“Painfully,” he murmurs, rolling onto his side to face Alec, “The small ‘mm’ was a nice touch, though.”

It’s dark inside the tent, the fire they built earlier nothing but dwindling ash. Alec’s eyes adjust to the dimness.

“I’m used to sleeping alone,” he says quietly, and when he realizes how his words sound, he adds, slightly flustered, “I studied and worked a lot. Didn’t have much time for anything else.”

He senses Magnus smile beside him. “It’s alright. No judgment here.”

“And you?” Alec asks, ignoring the heaviness that pulls at his heart when he does, “You got someone, somewhere?”

Magnus makes a noise of amusement. He moves in his sleeping bag, the zipping sound of shifting nylon filling their tent.

“Alexander,” he says, “You think I’d flirt with you, friendly or otherwise, if I had someone back home?”

Color rises swiftly in Alec’s cheeks. “I—no, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Magnus hums under his breath. “Just because I’m bi doesn’t mean I cheat.”

“ _No_ ,” Alec says louder, scrambling upright into a seated position, “No, that is not what I meant _at all_ —”

He exhales despairingly, palms to his face. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just—I’m proud that you’re bi and don’t give a damn, I just have my foot in my mouth seventy percent of the time and—”

Magnus erupts in a fit of giggles, shaking like a leaf as Alec whips his confused gaze towards him. Annoyance swells in Alec’s chest, slowly reaching a fever pitch.

“ _Are you fucking kidding me?!_ ” he hisses through gritted teeth. Magnus reaches out for his arm, and once he finds it in the darkness, tugs at it soothingly.

“I’m sorry, Alexander,” he wheezes as quietly as he can, “I couldn’t help it!”

“I was so—” Alec fumbles in disbelief, “I hate you, Magnus.”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus whispers again, still grinning as his fingers curl around the bulk of Alec’s upper arm, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, lie back down, I promise I won’t do it again.”

An annoyed grumble passes through the thin walls of their neighboring tent and it sounds like Soo. Alec drops his voice but doesn’t let his displeasure dissipate.

“I can’t believe you,” he grits out, flopping back onto his sleeping bag, arms crossed.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus repeats for the fifth time, still smiling, “Call it penance for being such an ass to me before.”

Alec presses his lips together, frowning. He mutters in concession, “Fine.”

Magnus’ laughter finally fades and he exhales contentedly. His head shifts against his pillow again.

“It’s nice to know you’re proud of me,” he teases gently.

Alec finds Magnus’ surprise ridiculous. “You’re a NASA astronaut and before that, a distinguished engineer. I’m sure people being proud of you isn’t something new.”

Magnus laughs, but Alec can feel the sharp edge of the sound it makes.

“You’d be surprised how fast people disregard your accomplishments when they find something about you they don’t agree with,” Magnus says.

Alec blinks up at the canopy of their shared tent. He has always had a feeling about this. He recalls fragments of it from conversations he and Magnus shared in the past, where mere mentions of mothers and fathers cast something vaguely somber over Magnus’ eyes. It easily pushes Magnus into his own thoughts, no matter how fleetingly.

Alec murmurs, carefully but bravely, “Do you still talk to your parents?”

“My dad, sometimes.” Magnus’ mouth pulls into a small, wistful smile. “My mom, no.”

Alec looks at Magnus. He asks quietly, “Is it because of your sexuality?”

“I come from a conservative family,” Magnus says, shrugging, “A church hymn away from thumping a bible kind of conservative.”

He exhales a breath so heavy that it feels like it came from the deepest part of him.

“Telling them I was bisexual was the hardest conversation I have ever had in my life,” Magnus admits, “They just won’t listen. I guess it never was a conversation to begin with.”

Magnus shifts against the nylon of his bag. “Just me shouting into an abyss.”

Then, he laughs. “The stubbornness of an Asian parent, I tell you. My dad somewhat came around by the time I left for college. My mom still won’t talk to me.”

Resignation rolls off Magnus in waves, and Alec feels it so starkly across the short distance that separates them. It’s a Magnus whom Alec hasn’t seen before.

“I’m sorry,” Alec mutters, pained, “That’s awful. Nobody should go through something like that.”

“Oh, don’t be, Alexander,” Magnus says, a hand waving in the air, “I’ve long come to terms with it.”

Alec chews on his lip, frowning. It still doesn’t feel right.

Carefully, he says, “Just because you’ve come to terms with it, doesn’t mean you have to be okay with it.” Then, he murmurs under his breath, “Admitting it hurts is okay too.”

It takes a few moments for Magnus to answer, and for Alec, it’s a few moments of bated breaths. 

“Okay,” Magnus says, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Alec worries the inside of his lip between his teeth.

“Thanks for telling me all this,” he murmurs, “It’s not easy, I know.”

Alec can almost hear the smile on Magnus’ lips. A warm touch kisses Alec’s cheek, pressing gently but fleetingly. It’s Magnus’ brand of teasing; always affectionate, always physical.

It’s reassuring.

“You told me yours first,” Magnus whispers, “So I guess we’re even.”

Alec remembers that time in the pool like it’s a memory so remote that he must look back at it with fondness.

“Okay,” he murmurs, “We’re even.”

Magnus and Alec settle themselves into one of the Harmony module’s small ports, their backs against one wall and their feet to the other, pinning themselves in place. Below them is the docking station for the now-retired Space Shuttle, unused and bolted shut.

Magnus turns to Alec with a teasing smirk. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Your soul isn’t separating from your body?”

Alec laughs a little. “That’s unnecessarily dramatic.”

“You refused to call a loop-de-loop a loop-de-loop during T-38 training,” Magnus says pointedly.

“That was four years ago,” Alec reasons, and then adds, “Also, it’s called an aerobatic maneuver.”

“Elitist pilot,” Magnus teases, and Alec smirks.

“Know-it-all engineer.”

They look at the wall before them, filled with stickers bearing the logos of all the space missions ever completed. Alec can imagine past NASA astronauts coming out of the Space Shuttle and being greeted by this patchwork of logos—a reminder of the work that has been painstakingly done in this second home of theirs, roughly 200 miles above their first. A reminder that when you arrive on the International Space Station, you are a part of something so unfathomably monumental that you won’t even realize its full breadth until you leave it.

Magnus holds his sticker in his hands, one that he has kept in the breast pocket of his suit since they were launched into space.

That was eight months ago.

“They might scold us for this. As a unit,” Magnus says, chuckling, “Just like Russia.”

Alec laughs softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ah,” he says fondly, “Russia.”

They both sigh, the backs of their heads settled on the wall behind them.

“They handed us our asses in Russia, and yet here we are,” Alec says. He gives Magnus a small nudge. “Do it.”

Magnus dislodges himself, floats closer to the sticker-studded wall, and searches for the most appropriate spot. He finds one between the Italian flag and the ISS Expedition 23 logo. He peels the backing off his sticker and with steady hands he presses it onto the wall. He smoothens a palm over it, running over the edges repeatedly.

Magnus regards his work. “Well?”

Alec nods. “Perfect.”

He turns to Magnus, eyes soft.

“Proud of you,” he says, a universal truth.

Magnus smiles, raising his hand to rest on Alec’s cheek, thumb gently smudging against its highest point. Magnus moves closer, floating across the distance between them, and to Alec, it seems like time has been stretched taut and slowed exponentially. Alec’s gaze drifts to Magnus’ mouth as it forms undecipherable words.

He seems so close, Alec thinks. They’re almost chest to chest. Alec can feel Magnus’ breath sweeping softly across the planes of his skin.

 _Thank you_ , Alec reads the words on Magnus’ mouth more than he hears them. Magnus floats away, fingers dragging softly across the spot where Alec’s heart sits - until it doesn’t anymore. Just like that, reality snaps back into place, and everything moves around Alec in real time.

Alec glances back at the sticker, giving it one last look before leaving the module.

It stands starkly against the rest with its striking bars of pink, purple, and blue.

It’s a month after the sticker that Magnus receives his first call from Earth.

Alec watches as Magnus blinks at the headset as if it bears a chemical equation that even he can’t solve. He hesitantly takes the headset from Alec’s hands and Alec presses himself against Magnus’ side soothingly.

With an uneasy exhale, Magnus places the headset over his ears.

He speaks into it with a shaky voice.

“How are you doing, mom?”

Alec stays the entire time, Magnus’ fingers flexing and unflexing against Alec's.

“You’re getting _what_?!” Alec shouts.

Magnus jumps in his seat, his pen flying in the air and landing on the table with a loud clatter. He kicks Alec under the table. 

“Ow—what the fuck Magnus—” Alec grits, rubbing at the sore spot on his leg before focusing on his phone call again, “You’re getting _what_?!”

 _“I’m getting married,”_ Izzy screams over the phone, _“Is Magnus there?! I want to talk to him!”_

“To your annoying girlfriend?” Alec demands, a grin pulling on his mouth as he pre-emptively pulls his phone away from his ear.

_“Yes, Alec, to my girlfriend! Shut up or I’m rescinding your invitation!”_

Magnus kicks Alec under the table again, gentler this time. He demands to know what’s happening, and Alec mouths Izzy’s news to him. In a fraction of a second, Magnus’ eyes are blown wide, his hands pressing against his mouth, and he’s scrambling across the table for Alec’s phone. Alec swats Magnus’ hands away.

“Did you propose? Or did Clary?” he asks, and Magnus seethes where he sits, wanting so much to hear the story from Izzy herself.

Izzy screams again, _“It was a double proposal!”_

“Ugh, gross, a double proposal?” Alec snickers, “Can you two be any more lesbian?”

_“You would do a double proposal too, I bet!”_

Alec laughs, “Right.”

Alec can feel Izzy’s gleeful smirk from across the country. _“Let me talk to Magnus and I’ll tell him all the significant dates in your life.”_

“Ha-ha,” Alec drawls, “And I know you haven’t asked, but yes, I’ll walk you down the aisle.”

 _“Good, and I wasn’t gonna ask,”_ Izzy says mirthfully, _“I was going to demand.”_

Alec grins. “Well, I beat you to it.”

“Congrats, Iz!” Magnus yells, his ear pressed against the back of Alec’s phone, “I told you she’s a keeper!”

 _“You did, and I’m glad to confirm you’re right,”_ Izzy says, laughing, _“You’re coming to my wedding, right?!”_

“We have to talk about the date sooner rather than later,” Magnus says, grinning, “I’m afraid I’ll be out of the country for most of next year.”

_“Wait, what do you mean?”_

“Let’s just say I’m going to have to extensively study up on my Russian.”

_“.. Oh my god, did you get picked for Soyuz training, Magnus?”_

Magnus laughs, taking the phone that Alec finally relinquishes. “Leaving for Moscow in three months!”

 _“Oh my god,”_ Izzy exclaims before her voice drops into a horrified whisper, _“Oh my god. Shit, did—did Alec? Did he get in?”_

Magnus presses his lips together, gaze rising to find Alec’s. “Ah. It’s not my place to say. Here, let me give you back to your brother.”

_“.. Alec?”_

“Of course I got in,” Alec snickers into the phone, and Magnus bursts into laughter.

Izzy screams in frustration, now on speaker. _“You guys suck! I’m uninviting you to the wedding! You two really deserve each other!”_

“You think Imasu will like that last bit, Magnus?” Alec asks, and Magnus wipes the corners of his eyes.

“As my boyfriend, I don’t think he will,” Magnus wheezes, still doubled over the table.

Izzy sounds appalled from the other end of the line. _“Magnus, you have a boyfriend?!”_

Alec rolls his eyes fondly. “Yes, Izzy, so two separate invitations, please.”

 _“Oh. Well,”_ Izzy pauses, _“Is he nice?”_

“Very,” Magnus says, his laughter settling into a smile, “I’d love for you to meet him.”

 _“Me too,”_ Izzy teases, _“I’d love to know what he has that Alec doesn’t._

“Izzy, cool it,” Alec sighs.

Izzy cackles. _“Just wondering!”_

Magnus looks at Alec pointedly. “For one thing, he doesn’t harass me when I mess up on my Russian conjugation.”

Alec shrugs nonchalantly. “Be better, maybe.”

“This is why we’re not together.” Magnus smirks, setting his elbow onto the table. Alec jokingly ‘aah’s with realization.

“ _That’s_ why.”

 _“Ugh, you two are annoying,”_ Izzy complains. _“Anyway, so if you’re doing the Soyuz training, does that mean you’re getting sent to the Space Station?”_

Alec can’t help but grin. “That’s the goal.”

 _“Shit, you guys,”_ Izzy says breathlessly, _“I’m so proud of you two! You guys really did it! You’re going to be astronauts now, for real!”_

Alec raises a brow. “So, we weren’t the last three years?”

He can imagine Izzy waving a dismissive hand. _“Baby astronauts. Barely. Also, your butts better be on Earth by the time I get married or else don’t even bother coming back to this planet.”_

Magnus laughs. “We’ll crash the ISS into Earth if we have to.”

_“That’s what I want to hear! Okay, I need to call other people. We need to meet up before you two leave for Russia!”_

“For sure,” Alec answers, smiling down at her picture on his phone screen, “Love you, Iz, and congrats to you and that gremlin.”

 _“Thanks, and love you too,”_ Izzy snickers. _“Magnus, see you soon?”_

Magnus beams. “I can’t wait to meet you, Izzy. And congratulations again.”

Alec ends the phone call and dumps himself on his dining room chair, overwhelmed. It feels like a tornado has swept through him, rattling him down to his bones. Magnus sits back across from him, Russian exercise book forgotten. His fingers close upon his pen.

“Do you think Izzy will like Imasu?” Magnus asks, tapping his pen on the table’s wooden surface.

“Yes,” Alec answers, almost automatically. His forefinger scratches idly at the denim of his jeans. “She’ll love him.”

Magnus looks at Alec, head tilted curiously. “What do you think of him?”

Alec blinks. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re my best friend. Your opinion is everything to me.”

Alec’s fingernail digs deeper into the spot he’s been scratching. It’s only been a month since Magnus started dating one of the trainers from the Exercise Countermeasures Lab. Imasu was the one in charge of teaching the astronaut candidates how to operate the ISS exercise equipment and Magnus was the first one in, which Magnus touted to be a machination of fate.

 _If you had been first to go in, you would have snatched him for yourself_ , Magnus had teased.

Alec found the thought ridiculous. He had seen Imasu before, and he felt absolutely nothing.

“I think,” Alec says, “he makes you happy. And for me, that’s enough.”

Magnus gazes at him, a barely-there crease disturbing the line of his brow. It’s as if he is mulling a thought and trying, physically, to hide it. His response is a short, quiet hum, before he returns to his Russian exercises.

Alec peeks down at his jeans and sees a distressed spot of faded white where his fingernail rests.

Alec watches through the Cupola as SpaceX’s Dragon 1 resupply ship steadily approaches the International Space Station, ready to dock. Beside him, Adam Saint-Jacque from the Canadian Space Agency is manning the controls of the giant robotic arm that guides the ship to its berthing position. Giulia Benatti from the European Space Agency scrolls through the docking protocol as Magnus and Mikhail wait expectantly at the door, ready to retrieve the cargo and scientific payloads stored within the vehicle.

“Doing great, Adam,” Alec says.

Adam smiles, French-Canadian accent wrapped around his words. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Adam and Giulia arrived at the Space Station three months ago. Alec and Magnus have witnessed crews come and go in three to six-month cycles. They can’t remember how many times they’ve welcomed new crew members on board and then sent them off when their time on the Station has elapsed. Luke left for Earth a week ago. Magnus and Alec have berthed multiple cargo ships, run countless experiments, and completed endless media events in the ten months they’ve lived and worked in the International Space Station.

For the last ten months, they have lived their lives in thirty minute blocks of time.

Despite the unbelievable views and historic work they do, the exhaustion is getting to them. Alec misses Izzy terribly. Magnus jokes about missing running water, but Alec knows he’s looking forward to bridging the almost decade-long gap between him and his family. The first call he requested CAPCOM to make was a month ago, and CAPCOM, pleasantly surprised, had gladly patched it in.

They try to spend whatever free time they have in the Cupola.

The views that present themselves through the glass windows of their observatory are a cooling balm to their tired minds and aching spirits. They play their favorite songs through mediocre speakers. They suspend themselves side by side in comfortable silence. Sometimes, Magnus will perch his chin on Alec’s shoulder as they both look at their planet turning before them. Alec won’t say anything when Magnus’ chin is replaced by the soft and careless pressure of his lips, but it burns through the thinness of Alec’s shirt and right into the nerves of his skin. Alec pins it all to memory.

Alec remembers the view through the windows too; the irregular blue patches of the Canadian Great Lakes as they pass by North America.

He always settles himself with an exhale. He reminds himself that this is Magnus’ brand of teasing; always affectionate, always physical. He lets Magnus slip into the cradle of his arm, allowing him the physical affection he’s been deprived of after almost a year in space.

Now, as Dragon 1 locks into place and Magnus gives him a teasing wink from where he’s receiving stowage bags from Mikhail, Alec reminds himself that loneliness makes human hearts vulnerable.

He reminds himself that if Magnus wanted to be with him, he would’ve done so a long time ago.

“Holy _shit_ —” Magnus wheezes as he sprints the last bit of his run before the treadmill slows down to a jog.

Alec looks up from his tablet, snickering. He floats towards one of the Space Station’s most prized pieces of exercise equipment: a commercial treadmill fitted with a laptop and placed atop of a system of springs. Bilateral bungee cords connect a harness to the floor, anchoring its runners and simulating faux gravity.

Running in space is an unusual feeling. And tiring too, if your now ex-boyfriend is in charge of creating your in-space exercise regimen.

Magnus pants, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from his brow. He grumbles, “Imasu most definitely still hates me. Who incorporates a five-minute sprint at the end of an astronaut’s daily exercise regimen?!”

“You broke up with him a week before leaving for Moscow,” Alec smirks, “Did you think he was going to be sweet on you?”

Magnus shrugs off the harness hugging his upper body, cleaning the equipment with a wet wipe.

“It was an amicable break-up,” he huffs, floating out of the way, “Your turn.”

Alec laughs as he takes Magnus’ place on the treadmill. “Amicable break-up my ass.”

Magnus snatches the tablet from Alec’s hands. “I’m not the only one on his hit list.”

Alec ignores Magnus’ muttering. Instead he asks, “How’re the AngieX trials going?”

“It’s been going,” Magnus says, pulling up his schedule and perusing through it.

“Is it still the same researcher? What’s her name again?” Alec asks, strapping himself into the treadmill harness. He adjusts the bungee cords to his height, stretching them just the right side of taut.

“Frances,” Magnus answers, “And yes, it’s still her.”

Alec reaches for the controls and selects the exercise program tailored for him. When he presses on the keys, it makes a loud, clacking sound that brings Magnus’ eyes up.

“What?” Magnus asks.

Alec waves a nonchalant hand and starts to walk, steadily increasing his speed until he’s jogging at a comfortable pace. Magnus sticks the tablet to the strip of velcro on the wall and turns to face Alec curiously.

“What’s wrong?” Magnus presses.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Alec says through steady breaths, his feet pounding the moving belt below him, “You just seem very happy talking with her.”

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “She’s quite funny.”

He pulls himself closer to Alec’s treadmill, but Alec’s eyes are stubbornly pinned to the wall before him. Magnus rests his chin against the heel of his palm.

“She’s also a biomedical engineer,” he hums, “Harvard. Very smart. We’ve got lots in common.”

“Date her then,” Alec says sharply, “That’s why you signed up for that AngieX experiment, right? Perfect excuse to keep in touch?”

“Oh,” Magnus mutters, taken aback, “That’s what you think?”

“No judgment,” Alec huffs out, his jog gaining speed, “Whoever makes you happy, Magnus.”

Magnus lifts his chin from his palm. Instead, he rubs the pads of his fingers together, as if he’s feeling fabric with his hands.

“And you think she’ll make me happy, Alexander?” he asks.

Alec whips his head to the side to stare at Magnus, and slams on the breaks, slowing to a walk, and then a stop. His chest heaves as he pulls in air, panting heavily, and his eyes flick to the undecipherable expression on Magnus’ face. 

It’s a mathematical equation Alec cannot solve.

“Yes,” he answers, “She already is. I see it.”

Magnus’ lips press into a flat line but says nothing. 

Alec shrugs. “If you really like her, don’t wait too long.”

Magnus smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes at all. “Oh, trust me, Alexander,” he murmurs, “I know the feeling of waiting too long.”

“Then don’t,” Alec says quietly.

Magnus reaches out, giving Alec’s cheek a gentle, parting squeeze. 

“Okay,” he says, and then he propels himself forward, disappearing into the Harmony module.

Alec exhales, hand passing over his eyes.

He restarts the treadmill and pushes it to maximum speed.

Star City, Russia, is a time capsule.

It becomes apparent the moment Alec and Magnus board the car that will bring them from Moscow to the former military base. Across the span of an hour, Sheremetyevo International Airport’s glass façade and sleek architecture age into gray, geometric buildings punctuated by bronze statues. It feels like the vision of a futuristic utopia from an age long gone by.

It makes sense, Alec thinks, for the birthplace of Russian cosmonautics to look so decrepit from the outside. During the height of the Cold War, Star City was a secret town, hidden from all maps in order to protect the USSR’s highly classified space program. To put flashing lights and a bright coat of paint on their prized cosmonaut training centre would be counterintuitive.

What strikes Alec the most is the relative silence. It’s as if the hustle and bustle of the capital has been siphoned off at every corner. Every footfall they deposit onto the uneven concrete seems audible several miles away.

“It’s good practice,” Alec says, “Space isn’t exactly like bar hopping downtown.”

Magnus exhales, staring out of the window into the bleakness of their new home. He admits, “Thank god we’re doing this together.”

Alec snickers. “This is when you’ll tire of me, you’ll see.”

Magnus smiles and solemnly says, “Never.”

The car pulls up to the apartment complex. They are met by a man in an ill-fitting suit, as if suits are not the norm in here but he decided to put one on for the occasion. He shakes Alec and Magnus’ hands only after pulling them into the door of the lobby.

“Never shake a person’s hand over a threshold,” he says pointedly, “Unless you want famine to befall either of you. The Russians have some choice superstitions.” He claps his hands together. “My name is Terrence Wilcutt, Deputy Director of NASA operations in Russia. Alec, Magnus, welcome to Star City.”

Magnus smiles at Alec, and Alec can’t help it.

He let himself grin the biggest grin he’s ever grinned, and he doesn’t even slightly try to fight it.

Magnus knocks on Alec’s door on their first night in their respective apartments.

“I’m gonna have to stay here tonight,” Magnus says bluntly.

Alec doesn’t bother asking why. He waves Magnus in and follows him into the living room as Magnus throws himself on the couch. Magnus splays out like a cat in a state of stretch, sighing tiredly as he reaches for the remote and changes the channel on the TV.

“You heard that loud bang too, huh?” Alec asks.

Magnus lifts his legs and allows Alec to sit down.

“Mm-hm,” he says, flipping the channel again.

Alec chuckles. Tomorrow, the hard work begins. But today, he lays his arms over Magnus’ legs and watches as a Russian-dubbed Keanu Reeves empties a clip onto a barrage of assailants.

He scratches idly at the fleece of Magnus’ pajamas the entire time.

The Space Station is quiet until the beeping of an alarm breaks the silence. 

The sound startles Alec awake. He unzips the upper part of his sleeping bag, a yawn erupting from his mouth as he stretches his arms above his head. He reaches out to boot up his laptop and peruse today’s schedule, only to find it mostly empty. A few boxes are grayed out for their mandatory two-hour exercise regimen, but nothing else populates the blank Excel sheet. He clicks open the calendar and squints at the day—Saturday.

“Fuck,” Alec groans softly, wondering if he has it in him to go back to sleep. It only takes a few moments of tossing and turning to decide that sleep has long left him.

Sighing, he wrestles himself out of his sleeping bag and opens the flap that forms the door of his booth. He propels himself forward and catches a railing to stop himself in front of their wash station. He opens his kit and takes his toothbrush and toothpaste from its holder. 

It’s been a while since Alec’s felt so utterly restless after a night’s sleep. The last time he felt like this was the first week after his launch into space, with the adrenaline of riding the Soyuz and the 360-degree sensory overload of the Station all around him making for some tumultuous first nights. It took a good long look outside of the Cupola, watching the Earth’s face change from the blue-greens of the South Pacific Ocean to the browns of Mexico, to quiet his mind. Magnus had foregone his first hour of sleep to keep Alec company.

_Magnus._

Magnus has been avoiding him, Alec knows.

For the past few years they’ve known each other, the thought of Magnus has always been one of either utmost clarity or unbearable confusion. There’s no in between. Magnus’ bright smiles and enchanting demeanor are the easy parts of him that everybody gets. But beneath what is easily understood is coded text. Alec feels like he has been given the key to its translation in the form of small touches and silent stares, but he doesn’t want to unearth the message. Alec makes for a stubborn archeologist.

Alec takes a towel and tiredly scrubs his face of any fatigue that still remains. The reflection that stares back at him in the small mirror of his kit is that of a helpless man.

Magnus is Alec’s friend—his _best friend_. The one person who Alec cannot bear to lose over a cocktail of misread intentions and false hopes. And the one time Alec tried to tell Magnus of the extent of his affection, Magnus didn’t realize it. It was so beyond the realm of what Magnus expects of Alec that it didn’t even register.

Alec cannot lose Magnus.

Alec would sooner lose his own mind than lose him.

Someone taps Alec and Alec almost jumps. Mikhail’s bushy mustache is the first thing Alec sees over his shoulder.

“Is Aleksander awake or sleep walking?” Mikhail asks in his thick Russian accent.

Alec nods, regaining his composure. “Awake. What can I do for you, Mikhail?”

“Where does Magnus stash his good coffee?” 

Alec raises a brow. “You do remember you’ve been cut off?”

“I am not ‘cut off’,” Mikhail answers, “Only temporary suspension.”

Alec squints slightly. “That’s not what I heard the last time.”

Mikhail sighs. “I forgot you are the mean boyfriend. Where is the nice boyfriend?” He then teases, “Not attached at hip today?”

Alec chooses to ignore most of what Mikhail says and instead comments, “Mean? Now I really won’t tell you where we stash the good coffee.”

Mikhail tuts. “Mr. Mean Boyfriend is putting strain on Russian-American space relations by being stingy.”

Alec snorts, speaking in his best, albeit choppy, Russian, “ _If the Russian-American space relations survived the Cold War, it can survive a dispute over coffee._ ”

Mikhail answers fondly in his mother tongue, “ _Could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back._ ”

Alec manages a small smirk. “I doubt it.”

“I will find the nice boyfriend,” Mikhail decides, “I have a better chance with him. I will do the dog eyes and he will say yes.”

The idea of a fifty-year-old Russian cosmonaut making pleading puppy eyes at Magnus has Alec chuckling under his breath.

“Remember, _Aleksander_ ,” Mikhail calls out as he floats away, “I am the commander of Soyuz when we go home in one month. One month to make nice or else maybe Soyuz suddenly not big enough for three people by time we fly!”

Alec sighs softly. One month. He and Magnus only have one month left in space. He’d almost forgotten.

“Breakfast,” he mumbles to himself.

When Alec arrives at the Cupola later that day, Magnus is already there.

Magnus turns away from the view and looks over his shoulder, lines of unease filling his face. Alec can feel Magnus’ stiffness across the space between them, and it’s suffocating. Alec hates it down to his very bones.

Alec decides to speak first. “Is it okay if I..?”

Magnus raises his eyes from where he’s stubbornly fixed upon a screen, finally meeting Alec’s gaze.

“Of course, Alexander,” he says, far more quietly than Alec is used to. “Here.”

Magnus edges out of the way and floats out of the observatory, taking care not to let himself touch Alec, as if it might set Magnus’ skin ablaze. The emptiness that Magnus leaves behind feels so starkly bare that it rivals the vacuum of space. Alec moves towards the windows of the observatory, but his eyes remain tethered to the spot where Magnus was. Somehow, the Earth turning below him seems significantly less important.

Alec presses his thumb into the bulk of his hand, punishing the muscle beneath.

There are few things that hurt Alec as much as this moment does.

Alec taps his forefinger against the wooden bar counter, patiently waiting for Magnus to finish his vodka martini. Alec’s own bottle of beer sweats in his other hand, forgotten.

Magnus has been leaning more and more towards hard liquor these past few weeks. It amuses Alec how the harshness of the Russian winter had swayed his best friend’s alcohol preferences. All it took was a hearty dare from one of their Russian cosmonaut colleagues, a mustached fellow named Mikhail Kuznetsov, and before Magnus realized it, he had been converted into a vodka man.

One of their NASA doctors punches in a song on the jukebox, and it fills the small, unrenovated basement they all fondly call _Shep’s Bar_ with the scratchy sound of one of the Beastie Boys’ most popular songs. It seems to be the right choice, because the measly but lively crowd of NASA staffers, Roscosmos workers, and a couple of multi-millionaire space tourists cheers as the opening riff of _No Sleep Till Brooklyn_ plays in the background. It mixes with the clacking of billiard balls and the low hum of relaxed conversations.

Magnus finally settles his glass back onto the counter. “Maybe another one,” he decides, halfway off his stool before Alec pushes him back down.

“No,” Alec says pointedly, “That’s your first and your last until you talk to me.”

Magnus sighs. “Let’s talk about my recent failure, sure, why not.”

“It was one failure,” Alec says, and Magnus presses his fingers against his temple.

“I crashed the damn capsule, Alexander,” he retorts, “I killed us. And the crew in the Station. And the people unfortunate enough to be in the crash zone of a gigantic space lab.”

“What the hell did you think was going to happen? Ace it on every try?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe not completely bomb the simulation?” Magnus snaps, “My god, Alexander, how about a little sympathy?”

Alec looks at him curiously. “What exactly will that get you?” 

Magnus seethes, rising from his seat again. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

Alec sighs. He doesn’t bother to corral Magnus back into his seat again and lets him stomp away. Instead, he leaves his beer where it’s set on the bar and climbs the staircase that leads into Terrence Wilcutt’s kitchen. The door that leads to the backyard has been left ajar, letting the frigid winter air in. Alec wraps his jacket around him tighter and covers his head with his hood.

Magnus is standing in the middle of the unkempt backyard, a set of footprints trailing behind him, stamped into the thin layer of snow. He huffs as Alec stands next to him.

“I told you this is when you’ll tire of me,” Alec says, lightly teasing.

“Low fucking blow,” Magnus mutters.

“You could always just agree.”

“But you know I won’t, and you abuse the shit out of that power.” 

Alec squints up at the sky. “I think you will, one day. You’ll get tired of my bullshit and decide you won’t want anything to do with me.”

Magnus snorts. “You have a funny way of apologizing, Alexander.”

Alec chuckles, pulling Magnus into his side. Alec rests his chin against Magnus’ hair, soft and unstyled. Star City has made Magnus a simpler man in more ways than one, but he’s still the same Magnus that Alec knows and loves. He still talks to people as if nothing else but their words matter in that moment, and he still touches others as if affection feeds his soul.

He still has polished fingernails.

Magnus winds his arm around Alec’s back, already accepting an apology that hasn’t even been offered yet. His exhale tumbles shakily out of his mouth. 

“We might die up there,” Magnus says.

Alec lets the word sink in. He had forgotten that, before becoming an astronaut, Magnus was a civilian. An incredibly smart civilian, but a civilian, nonetheless. He hasn’t accepted a risk of this magnitude before.

The thought of dying had been such a given in the military that Alec had it tucked in the corner of his mind, there but out of sight. It rears its ugly head from time to time, but a somber acceptance accompanies it.

But things were different then, just like things are different now. There are possibilities, here, that Alec desperately wants to stay alive for.

Alec answers gently, “We might.”

It’s a thought that they have been holding in their heads and their hearts for a long while now.

Magnus nods, sniffing slightly. “Okay.”

“Are you gonna be alright?” Alec asks, and Magnus nods again.

“I will be,” Magnus breathes out, shaking his head, “In hindsight, I should’ve made this realization a long time ago.”

“A long time ago, we weren’t slated to launch into space in five months,” Alec says, “Lot of things have changed since then.”

“A lot of things,” Magnus murmurs, “But not everything.”

A beat of silence, and then Alec slips his hand off Magnus’ shoulder, tucking it into his jacket pocket. His fingers play with the loose threads of the lining.

“Talk to Imasu lately?” he asks.

Magnus shakes his head. “Not really.”

Alec kicks gently at the ground, the toe of his boot scuffing against snow. “You two okay?”

Magnus shrugs wordlessly.

Alec decides not to push it.

Magnus completes his next Soyuz simulation perfectly.

Only Alec feels the minute tremble in Magnus’ hand as he holds it in congratulations. 

“Station to Houston,” Alec says into the transceiver.

_**Station, this is Houston.** _

It’s during their last week in space that Alec says the words.

“Houston, we’ve had a problem.”


	3. Chapter 3

Alec floats within the pressurized airlock, zipping his cooling garment close. Two NASA space suits stare back at him, both hung onto metal scaffoldings embedded into the walls of the Space Station. On his left is Extravehicular Mobility Unit 1, on his right, Unit 2. His is the second suit, slightly taller to account for his height.

The entire Space Station is abuzz with silent but frenetic energy.

The moment Magnus pointed out the white, snow-like crystals fluttering out of the P6 truss through the starboard camera, the team knew immediately that it was an ammonia leak. The Station’s energy-generating solar panels rely on a liquid ammonia cooling system to function. And from the information that Houston provided, it seems to be the same outer leak that has plagued the Station since 2006.

Mikhail settles beside Alec in the same state of undress, already breathing in pure oxygen through a respirator. Alec unhooks his mask from the wall and follows suit.

Alec looks up at the infographic on the wall-mounted monitor above his head, one that reflects the livestream that is shown on NASA’s social media channels every time a spacewalk occurs. Both Alec’s and Mikhail’s official astronaut photos are plastered on the monitor. _**Mikhail Kuznetzov, EV-1. Alec Lightwood, EV-2.**_

Mikhail makes an irate noise, disconnecting his mask from his face. “Of course,” he says, “Nothing like side-by-side photographs to show that I am an aged man.”

“You look as beautiful as your first day in space, Mishka.”

Alec’s mouth dries as Magnus floats into the airlock; he blames the air rushing out of his mask. 

“Your flattery is as good as your dancing,” Mikhail says before placing the oxygen mask back onto his face.

“You’ve only seen my drunken dancing,” Magnus jokes, “Wait until I show you how I move _sober_.”

Alec watches wordlessly as Magnus helps Mikhail into the bottom part of his spacesuit, the metal waistband held up by the lack of gravity. Mikhail gives Magnus a thumbs up in gratitude.

Magnus turns to Alec, softly speaking. “Let me help you.”

Alec nods, thankful for his mask and the momentary silence it allows him.

Magnus doesn’t say anything as Alec places a hand against Magnus’ shoulder for stability. Alec threads his legs through the trousers of his suit. He takes off his oxygen mask and then guides himself through the suit’s torso. Magnus takes the metal waistband and wordlessly clicks it in place. He doesn’t look at Alec, not when he slips Alec’s gloves on, and not when he fixes Alec’s tools against the plate on his chest.

It’s only when Magnus places Alec’s communication cap over his mess of wavy hair that he finally meets Alec’s gaze.

“Be safe,” he whispers.

Alec tests their waters. “You scared I’ll mess up?”

Magnus snaps the two straps of Alec’s cap together. “I’m scared you’ll get hurt.”

Alec brings a gloved hand up Magnus’ arm, before settling his fingers on Magnus’ wrist. He hopes his apology seeps through the thick layer of his suit and into Magnus’ skin.

“Whatever I did—”

“No,” Magnus says firmly, “You come back safely, and then we’ll talk.”

Magnus takes Alec’s helmet and fixes it in place.

Alec nods. “Okay.”

Magnus nods as well, and then, without thinking, Magnus reaches into Alec’s helmet and swipes his thumb across Alec’s cheek. Alec doesn’t stop himself from leaning into his momentary touch.

“Okay,” Magnus whispers.

He turns away and helps Mikhail finish suiting up.

Launch day looms before Alec and Magnus like the moon in its fullest face.

The execution of Russian pre-launch traditions, ones that are embedded deeply into cosmonautic history, begin seventeen days before Alec and Magnus are scheduled to fly. It starts with a ceremonial tour of the Red Square in Moscow, followed by the laying of red carnations at the foot of the Kremlin wall where Yuri Gagarin’s remains have been interned since his untimely death. _Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space_ , the placard on the wall says. Camera crews ask for sound bites as Magnus and Alec write messages on commemorative books in their passable Russian. While Magnus takes everything in stride, Alec tries his best not to feel overwhelmed by it all.

After that, it’s a three-and-a-half-hour plane ride from Moscow to Kyzylorda, and another three-hour drive to the Baikonur Cosmodrome. Nestled within the desert steppes of southern Kazakhstan, the Cosmodrome is a 57 square foot complex that houses the world's first and largest spaceport. In the late 1950s, the Soviet Union decided that Baikonur’s relative emptiness was a perfect site for launching vessels into space.

In Baikonur, with its frigid winds and its nearest town situated on the outskirts of the complex, isolation is close to a chokehold, as thick as morning fog. Star City was one thing, but it was also a community where people lived and worked and played. They had dinners in people’s cottages and Shep’s Bar was always there as a watering hole when the loneliness got a bit too much to bear. But Baikonur is its own monster, silently screaming.

If Alec struggled with the media circus surrounding the first few days of their pre-launch tour, he can see Magnus grappling desperately with the suffocating silence that follows after.

They are dropped off by their staffers at the doors of their respective hotel rooms.

Magnus doesn’t need to say anything for Alec to know what he needs.

Alec carries his luggage across the hall and follows Magnus into his hotel room. They both drop their bags on the floor, taking in the simple bed right across from a small kitchenette. Magnus turns on the television for the sake of noise, and a local channel hums in the background.

Alec plucks the one-page menu from the dining table.

“You hungry?” he asks.

Magnus nods, a corner of his mouth quirked. “Starving.”

They call in their orders and sit side-by-side on the bed, their shoulders touching. They watch a program they don’t understand.

They count down the days as they painstakingly tick away.

_**Welcome to NASA’s live coverage of today’s spacewalk. This is the 65th expedition’s third spacewalk of the year in support of International Space Station maintenance, assembly, and repair.** _

_**The goal of today’s activities is to inspect the ammonia leak observed at the P6 truss. Mikhail Kuznetzov and Alec Lightwood are tasked with mounting a camera for closer monitoring and making minor adjustments to the cooling system to minimize the leakage. Once minimized, another spacewalk will be planned in greater detail to potentially fix it.** _

_**This will be the eighth spacewalk for Station Commander Mikhail Kuznetzov. His last seven spacewalks bring his total time to thirty-seven hours and thirty-three minutes. He is wearing the suit bearing red stripes.** _

_**As for flight engineer Alec Lightwood, this spacewalk will be his third. This brings his total time to twelve hours and fourteen minutes. He is wearing the suit bearing blue stripes. Alec Lightwood, alongside fellow flight engineer Magnus Bane, are finishing their one-year mission aboard the ISS and are slated to fly home via Soyuz in a week. The last NASA astronaut to complete a year-long mission in space was Scott Kelly.** _

_**Adam Saint-Jacques is manning the communications line while Giulia Benatti and Magnus Bane are completing safety checks. Most spacewalks are planned months in advance, but due to the emergent nature of the situation, the preparation for this spacewalk has been expedited to three days. Troubleshooting ammonia leaks is one of the three emergent practice drills astronauts extensively train for, as it is highly toxic and could potentially compromise crew safety.** _

_**Alec Lightwood is now exiting the hatch, followed by Mikhail Kuznetzov. They are heading towards the Starboard truss and then making their way to the P6 truss.** _

_**It is 07:31 AM Central Time, and the 235th spacewalk in service of the ISS has begun.** _

“Come on,” Magnus urges.

Alec sighs, a rolled-up shirt in one hand. “We should be packing up. We leave for medical quarantine tomorrow.”

“Just for a little bit, Alexander,” Magnus pleads, “Trust me.”

Alec hasn’t seen Magnus so spirited since they arrived in Baikonur three days ago. He gave his best smiles during the tree-planting ceremony yesterday and the raising of the flags the day before, but none of them felt genuine to Alec’s trained eye. Today, however, is a clear exception.

“Okay,” Alec says, “Just for a bit.”

He doesn’t have time to toss his shirt back onto his bed. Magnus grabs his hand and pulls him through the door of his hotel room and into the hallway. Alec lets himself be dragged past countless rooms before they turn a corner and he is pushed in front of the elevator.

Alec stares at the shiny metal doors. He turns to Magnus, terribly confused, but finds him nowhere to be found.

“What the hell?” Alec mutters, his brow creased.

He is about to check around the corner when something barrels into him from behind. Alec yelps in surprise as a pair of arms squeeze around his waist. When he looks down he sees red sleeves, polished nails, and a small heart tattoo on a dainty wrist.

“No fucking way,” Alec whispers, lifting his arm to see his sister peeking under his elbow.

“What’s up, loser,” Izzy grins, and Alec gapes at her like a fish.

“Oh my god!” he yells, pulling Izzy from behind him and scooping her into the biggest hug he can manage. “Holy shit!”

Izzy laughs, hanging onto Alec’s neck as he lifts her off the ground. “Okay, you missed me, I get it.”

Alec sets Izzy down and steps back, hands squeezing her shoulders. “You’re in Kazakhstan? What are you doing here?!”

Izzy punches him on the shoulder teasingly. “Did you think I was gonna let you and Magnus leave Earth for a whole year and not see you two off?”

Alec whips around and spots Magnus emerging from around the corner. Alec points an accusing finger at Magnus, who just grins at him guiltily.

“Did you—” Alec flounders, “Were you in on this?!”

“Yes,” Magnus beams.

“And you didn’t _tell me_?”

“Darling,” Magnus drawls, “That defeats the point of a surprise, don’t you think?”

Izzy’s eyebrows jump up. “Pet names. Cute.”

Alec ignores her and instead wraps her up in another bone-crushing hug. Izzy clings to Alec tightly, head tucked into the crook of his neck and she murmurs something even Alec can’t quite hear. Her hand cradles the back of his head gently. 

Izzy pulls away, sniffling.

“So,” she says jokingly as she steps back, “What’s there to do in Baikonur?”

They end up in Alec’s room with passable room service and bottles of questionable beer in their hands.

“Lemme tell you something, Magnus,” Izzy drawls, gesturing towards Magnus. She makes a face of concentration before belching loudly, sending Magnus into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Alec groans, wrinkling his nose. “Jesus, Izzy, what’s in that bottle? Rocket fuel?”

“Shut up, Alec,” Izzy scolds, “I flew to this whole load of nothing so I can wave a white handkerchief in the air and watch you blast off into space. Do you realize I could be somewhere in Spain right now?”

Alec holds his hands up in surrender, grinning. “Okay, okay.”

“Anyway,” Izzy says, wagging a finger in Magnus’ direction, “As I was saying. Lemme tell you something.”

She motions for Magnus to come closer, a hand over her mouth as if she has a secret to tell. With a pleased giggle, she whispers in his ear, “ _Alec had a girlfriend once._ ”

Magnus straightens, brows rising as a gleeful grin pulls at his lips. “Alexander, you didn’t tell me you had an experimental phase.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “She was my prom date and close friend.”

“Friends can turn to something else,” Magnus hums.

“She knew I was gay and helped me come out,” Alec retorts.

Magnus doesn’t look convinced.

Alec gulps down his beer. “She was a part of a group called _Lesbians for Lunch_.”

“Okay, point taken,” Magnus says in defeat, before looking at Alec curiously. “What kind of organization is that?”

“Gives out food to the homeless,” Alec supplies and Magnus _ahh_ s in understanding.

“You did not tell me that she’s a lesbian,” Izzy says flatly, and Alec shrugs.

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“You think a lot of things aren’t relevant,” Izzy accuses, before turning to Magnus with yet another fond memory to share, “When I was in my second year of law school, I had to work the summer to afford my textbooks. The scholarship covered my tuition, but everything else was out of pocket.”

Magnus leans closer, resting his chin in his palm, invested in the story. It makes Alec smile.

“I didn’t want to tell him, and there was no way I was gonna ask for help,” Izzy says, “Stubbornness runs through the Lightwood bloodline as you can see.”

“I can see,” Magnus smirks and it gets him a soft kick to the thigh. 

“So, I worked two summer jobs. Retail was exhausting and waitressing was literally soul-crushing,” Izzy continues with a pained expression, “And I spent months ranting to Alec about shitty bosses and annoying customers. He didn’t have any sympathy for me and told me to suck it up.”

Magnus laughs, nodding in agreement, and he gets another kick.

“By the time fall semester was about to start, I went to my landlord to pay rent,” Izzy adds, “But apparently someone had already paid it all until the next year. Alec chose to live in his military barrack and used the money he saved so I could stay closer to school for another two semesters.”

She turns to Alec. “You wouldn’t have told me if I didn’t confront you about it. I suppose you thought that wasn’t relevant either?”

“You would’ve said no if I offered it,” Alec says pointedly, and Izzy nods in agreement.

“My brother makes people work, Magnus,” Izzy says, “He’s hard-headed and will test your patience more often than not, but when he loves you,” she holds Magnus’ gaze, “He loves you.”

Alec runs his thumb across his palm, the corner of his mouth curled into a small smile.

“He will sacrifice things he loves, even things he needs to make his loved ones happy,” Izzy continues, “And he will do it all silently just so he can ease your worries.”

Izzy must be drunk now because she says something she wouldn’t have said sober, her glazed eyes teeming with tenderness.

“He’s one of the most important people in my life,” she says, “And I need you to take care of him up there where I can’t. Promise me you’ll keep him safe.”

“I promise,” Magnus answers softly. 

Alec passes a hand over his mouth as he watches Izzy nod sleepily, one swig away from fully curling into an exhausted ball on Alec’s bed.

“Okay,” she murmurs, “Good.”

The next day, Alec and Magnus hug Izzy goodbye.

She promises to be there at the quarantined interview as camera crews ask them questions about their upcoming spaceflight through a glass wall. She will see them off as they board the Soyuz and watch their spaceship launch.

Before Alec knows it, it’s him and Magnus again, as always.

Magnus may tire of it, but Alec knows that he never will.

_**It’s 06:42 PM Central Time, almost six hours into the spacewalk, and EV-2 just called for a pause to their activities. Alec Lightwood seems to have reported a malfunction with his spacesuit.** _

_**EV-1 and EV-2 are on standby as Mission Control Houston discusses on how to proceed.** _

Adam’s voice crackles through the line.

_How’s it going out there, guys?_

_Waiting patiently_ , Mikhail answers. Through the plastic of their helmets, Alec can see his commander look at him. _Are you sure it is not sweat?_

“I’m sure,” Alec answers, wincing at the unnerving feeling of water creeping steadily towards his eye. The surface tension forms it into a slowly moving blob that has saturated the back of his communications cap and is now partially obstructing his vision.

“Blind on my left eye now,” Alec says steadily, updating the crew and Mission Control.

 _I can see it now_ , Mikhail says, a gloved finger tapping at Alec’s helmet, _Reattach your tools, Mean Boyfriend. Might have to float you back into the airlock._

“Copy, Mikhail,” Alec answers, “Water’s crossing over the bridge of my nose.”

Alec knows what Mikhail is doing, and he can’t help but smile. It’s a nervous smile - one that makes his lips tremble - but it’s a smile, nonetheless. It’s not lost on him that water building up in a spacesuit is essentially drowning in space. It could soon cover his nose and mouth, suffocating him until he loses consciousness. But NASA has done the calculations and the crew has run through the simulations. Every day is a risk when you’re living and working in an inhospitable environment, but they’re risks both calculated and mediated. Alec has tirelessly completed every simulation and patiently learned every protocol that there is for the past four years. He knows what to do.

This is astronaut work in its very essence. It’s seeing the risk and accepting it, not because of blind heroics, but because you’ve been taught how to solve the problems when they are presented to you.

In the soundlessness of space, Alec hears his mother’s voice.

 _My love, it’s okay_ , she says, _you’re okay._

Alec has run into a cobweb and there’s a spider inside.

But he knows, truly, that he’ll be alright.

_**EV-1 and EV-2, this is Mission Control. We are aborting our spacewalk early and making our way back to the airlock. Mikhail, do a quick check on the valves and head off right away, please.** _

_Copy that, Houston_ , Mikhail answers.

_**Excellent job on the repairs today, folks. Alec, please continue updating us with your status.** _

Alec begins moving towards the Starboard truss as he speaks over the radio.

_Copy that._

_Almost there, guys_ , Adam says, _Two minutes until crew lock pressure restabilizes. Hang in there._

_**Houston to Alec, can we get a status?** _

_Alec cannot speak so well right now, Houston, last check water reached his nose_ , Mikhail says, _Squeeze my hand if you are okay, Alec._

He holds his hand against Alec’s.

 _Alec, squeeze my hand_ , Mikhail says again.

Mikhail turns to the airlock control panel and punches a couple of buttons. _Alec is not following commands, Houston_ , he says calmly, _Moving slightly but not following. Too tight here to visualize his face. How much time left until airlock is repressured, Adam?_

 _Thirty seconds and we can get to you two_ , Adam answers.

 _ **Crew, be at the ready for expedited suit doffing please**_ , Houston says.

Adam answers, _Copy that, Houston._

The first thing Alec feels is hands pulling him by his wrists.

He is propelled forward before being placed right-side up. He vaguely hears someone working on removing his helmet.

Even with his eyes closed, he can sense the flood of brightness from the Station’s lights. Towels are wiped across his face until he’s able to breathe through his nose and open his eyes again. The first thing he sees is Magnus.

He looks so worried. He says something Alec can’t hear.

“What?” Alec yells.

Magnus wipes water from Alec’s ears and suddenly, he can hear again.

“Are you okay?” Magnus asks, the shakiness of his voice wrangled into submission.

“I’m fine,” Alec says, softer now, shaking his head to rid his ears of leftover water.

 _Is he okay?_ Mikhail asks through the communications line. He is still stuck in the outer portion of the airlock and he can’t see past the wall of crew members.

Adam speaks into the transceiver. “He’s alright.”

Mikhail sighs audibly. _You made me nervous, Aleksander._

“Sorry,” Alec says, laughing a little, “I couldn’t hear a thing. I’m alright.”

Alec turns to Magnus, gloved hand touching Magnus’ wrist reassuringly. Magnus nods, mouth closed so tightly his jaw clenches. He scrubs a towel behind Alec’s head, absorbing more water from where it has saturated his hair.

He begins taking off the rest of Alec’s suit, piece by piece. “Let’s get this off you,” he mutters.

Terrence once said that a good night’s sleep is the difference between a good launch and a bad launch.

Alec remembers chuckling at his deputy director’s words. He would’ve thought that Soyuz not exploding into tiny pieces would play a bigger part in deciding the fate of their flight to space, but just like everything else, it all comes down to the simple things. The human things.

That night, Magnus knocks on Alec’s door, looking for company. Contemplating their shared fears and fending off lonesomeness - it’s the most human thing Alec has done in a long time.

They don’t turn on the television or try to find something to eat. Instead, they lie next to each other, a few feet apart, but face to face.

“Are you scared?” Alec asks.

“Yes,” Magnus answers, tucking his hand under his pillow, “Of course, yes. There has to be a little fear or else you’re not human.” He regards Alec closely. “Are you?”

“We’ve practiced in the simulator enough,” Alec answers quietly, “We’ve run through every possible scenario and we know what to do.”

“Alexander,” Magnus asks again, “Are you scared?”

After a momentary pause, Alec finally admits it. “Yes.”

“Good,” Magnus teases, “Glad to know I’m not lying next to machinery.”

Magnus shifts against the sheets as Alec adjusts his head against his pillow. These are the only audible sounds in the air for a while as they both steep in their shared silence. Thoughts that Alec has been burying beneath simulations and New Mexico deserts and Russian winters for four arduous years surface like oil over water. They shimmer under sunlight, impossible to ignore.

What do you do if, tomorrow, you might die? How does death feel; how will your friends and family grieve? What will you miss? What do you leave behind on Earth? What do you take with you?

Magnus says, “I need to tell you something.”

Magnus worries the inside of his lip between his teeth. Alec waits expectantly, but Magnus’ silence is longer than expected. Alec bumps his foot against Magnus’, gently urging him to continue.

“Imasu and I broke up,” Magnus says finally. 

“I know,” Alec answers, “I’ve known for a while now.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Magnus asks.

“You didn’t tell me first,” Alec counters. He scratches idly at a spot on the bedsheet. “Why’d you keep it from me?”

Magnus shrugs, smiling. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

It’s a ridiculous concept, Alec thinks. Magnus is his family, his closest friend, his soulmate. Everything about him is relevant to Alec, from his encompassing traumas down to his smallest pet peeves. Alec would take them all.

“Magnus,” Alec murmurs, “You really underestimate how important you are to me.”

 _Don’t say it_ , a voice deep in Alec’s mind warns; the urge for self-preservation is unfathomably strong. Not a lot frightens Alec anymore, not cobwebs in his hair nor spiders in his shirt, but to be laid bare like this is terrifying. He can already hear the rejection that sits on the tip of Magnus’ tongue, ready to be said.

Alec succumbs to his fears.

“You’re my best friend,” he says.

The air between them is heavy. Suffocating. Magnus is unreadable until his mouth twitches into a somber, barely-there smile. He grazes a thumb across Alec’s cheek.

“I know, Alexander,” he says, “I know.”

Magnus asks if he can stay the night, and Alec says yes.

Alec shuts off the lights and returns to bed.

The last thing he sees before falling asleep is the outline of Magnus’ back, facing him.

Alec tiredly blinks himself awake in the darkness, shifting within his sleeping bag.

After today’s ordeals, sleep escapes him.

The news that a NASA astronaut almost drowned in his spacesuit spreads like wildfire on Earth. If Alec had the energy, he would roll his eyes, but spacewalks - even those that go right - are exhausting. It’s a three-month affair of continuous preparation, followed by a twelve-hour suit assembly, and an hour of fitting the spacewalkers into their units. And _then_ , the six-hour spacewalk can begin. Alec has stamina, but his early twenties have long passed him by.

The spacewalk being witnessed by an audience through NASA’s live stream also called for an interview with Alec and Mikhail. After a clear reassurance that he was okay, Alec had to demonstrate how the one-and-a-half-liter mass of water muffled most of his senses mid-spacewalk. He explained the potential causes and how the crew problem-solved the situation. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew Izzy would be watching. He wanted her to know that there was nothing to worry about. 

Alec can’t bear the thought of seeing yet another loved one visibly shaken by what had happened.

Alec only sees Magnus in fleeting moments throughout the day.

Between clearing away used equipment and catching up on their daily work, they only find each other across opposite ends of modules and workstations. There’s no time for promised conversations and owed apologies. There is so much work to do, and they only have a week left in the Station to do it. 

When the crew gathers for a late supper together in the galley to decompress, the exhaustion sets in so deeply that they unanimously decide to turn in early for the night. Magnus leaves the module before Alec can call out his name.

The past few days have made Alec realize what he knows all along - that he longs for Magnus in the simplest yet most powerful sense of the word. To be without him is gut-wrenching. He is illumination after stumbling in the dark, and now, Alec finds himself faced with startling clarity after so many years of being utterly blind.

A quiet sigh passes through Alec’s lips. The decision comes upon him like a gentle touch, nudging him into action. He wrestles himself out of his sleeping bag and leaves his bunk. Even from afar, he can see bright sunlight coming from the floor of the Tranquility module, a telltale sign that the windows of the Cupola are open.

Alec floats himself to the end of the module, careful not to make any noise. He lets himself freefall into the observatory’s entrance feet first, and finds Magnus looking out from one of the windows. An empty spot is already awaiting Alec’s presence, and it’s space Alec doesn’t think he deserves.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, “If you want to talk to me, you’re going to have to sit next to me.”

Alec hears the small smile in Magnus’ voice. He settles next to Magnus carefully, gazing out of the window to see twisting clouds swirling across the northern edge of Chile.

“What’s keeping you up?” Alec asks quietly.

“Thoughts,” Magnus says, half-jokingly, “Thoughts about decisions. Decisions about options. Things.”

“Very specific,” Alec says, smiling a short-lived smile. It falters as Alec remembers what he came here for. “Magnus, about what happened—”

“It’s not your fault,” Magnus murmurs, “I was being illogical.”

“No,” Alec presses, “I should’ve been better.”

“A better what, Alexander?” Magnus asks, “Do you know what you’re apologizing for?”

Alec feels like he knows, as if the answer is so easily within reach but he’s too afraid to grasp it.

“Do you still remember when we had our first big fight?” Magnus asks humorously, “The one where you pulled me into an empty hall and berated me for sulking around.”

“How can I forget?” Alec mutters, “I was an asshole.”

“Very much so,” Magnus agrees fondly, “I waited five days for you to apologize. Five long days before you finally showed up at the NBL and got your pants wet for me.”

Alec shakes his head. “There has got to be other ways of saying that.”

“Of course there are.” 

Alec chuckles, but he continues to press his thumb into his hand.

“It was a damn good apology, though,” Magnus admits, “And because I waited then, I have you now. I realized that though you may take your time, you are always worth the wait.”

An exhausted sigh tumbles from his lips. The sound of it makes Alec abandon Northern Chile for the view of Magnus beside him. 

With great pain, Magnus murmurs, “I think I’ve waited too long for you, Alexander.”

Alec lets the words permeate him fully.

“I am nothing if not truthful, so here it goes,” Magnus says, the pads of his thumb and finger rolling something invisible between them. “Imasu and I broke up because he realized you were unsurpassable. I promised Izzy I would take care of you up here because there is no universe in which I will let you get hurt.”

Magnus sucks in a deep, steadying breath and continues.

“I’m a part of the AngieX experiment,” he says, eyes glassy, “Because I couldn’t bear the thought of you losing your mother at the age of twelve.”

Alec turns to Magnus, but Magnus refuses to look back at him. Magnus speaks to his palms as if he is kneeling on the pew of a confessional booth, quietly sorrowful and seeking penance.

“I’ve loved you since New Mexico, under the stars,” Magnus says, “I loved you in Houston, across an Olympic-sized swimming pool.”

Alec sees the memories unfold before him. 

“I loved you in Russia, in Baikonur,” Magnus continues shakily, “And I love you here, at the edge of the Earth.”

Magnus exhales a desperate, wrangled sob. “But I’m _so tired_ , Alexander. I love you so much, and I’m tired.”

Alec can’t take it any longer. He presses his hands against Magnus’ face, holding him gently. He exhales, breath trembling as it passes through the partition of his lips. His thumb smudges something invisible on the high point of Magnus’ cheek.

“I’m not good at this, Magnus,” Alec says, “But please, _please_ listen to me.”

Alec’s thumb swipes across Magnus’ cheek a second time.

“I love you,” he breathes out, “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And I wish I had the words to tell you just how much, but I don’t. All I have is what I feel.”

Magnus’ fingers come up to touch Alec’s wrist.

“And I know I’m stubborn and slow and five years late,” Alec pleads, “But please, stay with me.”

Alec presses his forehead against Magnus’. “Stay with me,” he whispers again.

Alec feels Magnus’ other hand come to rest on his cheek, and Alec seeks the comfort it provides, leaning into Magnus’ touch. Alec would gladly meet his death if death meets him in the well of Magnus’ palm. 

“We’re fucking idiots,” Magnus mutters under his breath.

Alec blinks down at him. “What?”

“Five years,” Magnus says, “We’ve been dancing around each other for five years.”

Alec can’t help it. Something swells from deep inside him, rising steadily like an unstoppable force until it bursts from his lips in the form of unabashed laughter. With his eyes scrunched close and his hand to his heart, he throws his head so far back that he starts tumbling backward, yelping loudly.

“It’s not funny,” Magnus exclaims, but laughter pushes through his words, “Alexander, _stop_.”

Alec pulls himself right-side-up, still grinning. 

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes, “It’s a little bit funny, you have to admit.”

“I was miserable!” Magnus complains and Alec laughs even harder.

“So was I,” Alec grins, “It’s fine. It’s all fine. We’re here now.”

Magnus rolls his eyes, huffing. “Yes, but at what cost?”

Alec laughs again. He reaches out for Magnus, pressing his palms against either side of his jaw. He murmurs, “I’m gonna kiss you now.” 

The lines of frustration on Magnus’ face dissipate like fog under a rising sun. 

Alec pulls Magnus closer and presses his lips to the corner of Magnus’ mouth. He noses tenderly at Magnus’ cheek, and finally, he catches Magnus’ lips in a gentle, open-mouthed kiss. Magnus kisses him back thoroughly, fingers threaded through Alec’s lifted hair and scratching comet tails onto his scalp. They kiss, asteroids hurtling into the atmosphere, a solar eclipse locked in eternal alignment. They kiss, two galaxies destined to collide after millions of years of waiting.

The sun dips back into orbital night, submerging them both in the darkness of space.

The International Space Station hums around them, a mechanical lullaby.

And the Earth turns silently outside, their only witness.

_**Station this is Houston, are you ready for morning debrief?** _

“Houston, this is Station,” Mikhail says, “Me, Giulia, and Adam are ready, but two boys here had a fun sleepover, it seemed—”

Alec wrestles his commander for the transceiver. “We were just talking, CAPCOM. Just ran a bit late for the morning.”

CAPCOM sounds amused.

_**Of course, Alec.** _

Magnus holds back an aborted laugh, spooning scrambled egg into his mouth. 

Alec glares pointedly at Mikhail. “If my crewmates could mind their own business, that would be great.” 

“How can crew mind their own business when your business is very loud?” Mikhail asks incredulously, and this time Magnus can’t hold back the laughter that washes over him. He chokes on a piece of egg, coughing uncontrollably into his hand.

“We have a choking situation in here, Houston,” Mikhail teases, “Stand by.”

 _ **Standing by**_ , CAPCOM answers with a laugh.

“I’m fine,” Magnus grins, “Houston, for the record, I don’t usually choke.”

“Houston, _please_ do not put that on record,” Alec says despairingly. Magnus cackles beside him, pulling Alec closer.

CAPCOM sounds hopeful when she asks her question.

_**How about HR? Is there something they need to put on their record?** _

Alec looks at Magnus, and Magnus grins back at him.

“Yeah,” Alec says, and no force on the universe could oppose the smile on his face, “Magnus and I are together. We’ll hand in the forms when we come home.”

A faint cheer weaves in and out of their communications line, punctuated by the crew’s hoots and whistles. Mikhail pats both Magnus and Alec on the back, grinning toothily.

_**Station, I’m glad to report that the longest running ISS expedition bet has ended. Alec and Magnus have made some people at Mission Control very happy.** _

“Of course there’s a bet,” Alec sighs, “Why am I not surprised?”

_**Very little fun to be had on night shift here, guys.** _

“We should get a cut,” Adam jokes, “We were very persuasive.”

_**Too little, too late, Adam.** _

Magnus laughs, combing his fingers through Alec’s hair . He takes the transceiver and speaks into it.

“So what’s gonna keep us busy today, Houston?”

  
Alec and Magnus look out of the windows of the Cupola one last time.

Beneath them, the Earth turns silently, illuminated by an orbital sunrise. The biggest piece of the universe that Alec has ever seen up close, and it moves around the Sun in complete silence. It almost doesn’t make sense.

Alec sighs, drawing Magnus closer like a telescope with the night sky. He feels Magnus press a smile against his chest, and Alec hooks his ankle around Magnus’. 

“Remember running water?” Alec asks.

“Mm,” Magnus groans into Alec’s shirt, “That’s sexy.” 

Alec laughs loudly at the ridiculousness of it, pinching his fingers into his eyes. Magnus presses another kiss to Alec’s chest, grinning.

“That’s the first thing I’m gonna do,” Alec sighs happily, “I’m gonna stand under the shower for thirty minutes.”

“I hope you don’t mind if we take our first showers alone,” Magnus says, “After a year of sponge baths, showering has become a spiritual thing to me.” He adds, “Check on me if I drown, though.”

Alec snickers. “I promise not to let you drown.”

Magnus hums appreciatively. “Thank you.”

“As long as you still love me when we get back to Earth.” 

“On every planet, Alexander,” Magnus says tenderly, “In every universe.”

Alec is immediately disarmed. He wonders, as he dips down and catches Magnus in a gentle kiss, when he’ll ever get used to how much Magnus loves him - in both thunderous affection and quiet devotion. Alec almost hopes he _never_ gets used to it. 

Magnus scratches soothingly at the waves of Alec’s hair as they kiss. When they part, Magnus settles his head against Alec’s chest again. They look, together, out the window. 

“What was your favorite view?” Magnus asks.

The question makes Alec smile. He’s been asked this question before.

He has seen many things through the seven windows of the Cupola.

He has seen crystalline lakes on the sprawling planes of Ethiopian lowlands. He has seen the swirling blues of river sediments emptying into the Pacific Ocean. He has seen ash-gray plumes of smoke erupting from Indonesian volcanoes, and vast, Colombian mountain ranges reduced to mere creases on the face of the Earth.

He has seen the Sun bare. He has seen the indescribable blackness of the universe.

Magnus lays on Alec’s chest, a culmination of all that and more.

“New York at night,” Alec says, smiling tenderly. Magnus agrees.

The sun hovers over the horizon, slowly descending.

There are neither mornings nor nights on the International Space Station—not when the horizon is the curved blue line of the Earth’s surface, and not when the ISS orbits the Earth at 17,200 miles per hour. Thus, Magnus and Alec are gifted with sixteen sunrises and sixteen sunsets every day.

The sun sinks into the curved line of the Earth’s atmosphere, further and further until it’s a mere orange dot.

Alec and Magnus watch their sixteenth sunset in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for making the time to read this fic! Thank you again to the Malec Discord Server, Lucy, and Shiva. Please do find Shiva's works on the last chapter of this fic and give her all the comments! I'm @nhixxie on twitter and follow #nhixxiefic if you wanna chat!  
> \- Nhixxie


	4. Artworks by Shiva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art works by meee, thank you to this lovely team that created this marvelous and lovely fic. I'd like to also thank PeoniesCry, my partner, who helped me out with the neon suits because we debated so long on how to draw these and without them I wouldn't have been able to complete this poster.


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